


Desideratum

by waywardlights



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: (at least not in this fic), Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Gen, No Romance, it's TEW2 but with ocs and some timeline rearranging, tags will be updated as fic continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 62,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardlights/pseuds/waywardlights
Summary: Three years after Beacon, and Sebastian Castellanos is no closer to finding answers, or closure, or anything besides misery and the bottom of empty bottle after empty bottle, until three fateful words, spoken to him over a bar booth’s table, pull him back into the fray.Three and a half years after going rogue and living on the run with a hidden accomplice, ex-Mobius agent Darius Archer is no closer to freeing himself from his former employers’ wrath, and is swiftly running out of options.Reluctantly, both of them are thrust into the world of Union, for a chance to earn a new life, a new start, and when you have nothing left to lose, there’s really only one thing to do: burn down the past, and rebuild.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Belie

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of notes before we begin:
> 
> -this is a genfic, as I'm sure everyone who's gotten this far has noticed--I love romance as much as the next person (and have written more than my share) but it didn't work with where I plan this fic to go, though provided I finish this one and am able to work on the planned sequel, there will be romance there.
> 
> -there's OCs in this fic, since that's my personal jam, but if it's not yours, no hard feelings.
> 
> -I'm going to do my best to maintain a regular posting schedule on Sundays. I'm posting the first two chapters today, since the first one is pretty short, but after that the weekly schedule will start with chapter 3, next Sunday.

_verb (used with object):_ _to act unworthily according to certain standards_

* * *

The noise Darius made when the jets of hot shower water hit him was almost indecent.

It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a shower this week, hell, it wasn’t even the first shower he’d taken _today_ _,_ but there was something very different about bathing in cheap, shitty motel showers, and something like this. In his three and a half years on the run, and truthfully even in the time before that, Darius had been accustomed to all manner and quality of bathing. There was still something to be said about the alluring power of hot water.

Which was exactly why he’d insisted on having a shower _before_ seeing the Administrator, much to Kidman’s exasperation.

Cranking the temperature gauge even harder to the left, the hot water turned almost painful, but Darius let out another groan, and out of the corner of his eye, through the frosted glass, saw a flicker of movement. The armed Mobius agent nearby, assigned to keep him out of trouble and ensure he wasn’t just pulling out a weapon or something else from whatever bodily orifice they thought he could fit something in, turned his head in what was probably a distinctly morbid curiosity. He’d gotten no small amount of those looks as soon as he and Kidman had set foot inside, heard their murmurings, _felt_ their glances and glares.

He was here for a reason, and he was focused on that, not the obvious unease they felt at having him back here in any other manner besides hog-tied, gagged, and a gun barrel pressed to his temple. Or, alternatively, in a body bag.

As much as Darius would’ve loved to take his sweet time and make the Administrator wait a bit longer, lingering in the hot streams of water until they turned cold, he knew he was probably running out of time when another armed agent came to speak quietly to the first one, and shut off the water, toweling dry and fetching the clothes he’d discarded.

“The Administrator will see you now, um, sir.” Wariness was obvious in the flickering gaze Darius found fixed on him, and the tightened grip on the weapon in his arms.

“They teach you guys anything about blending in anymore?” Darius began to walk down the corridor, more than familiar with where they were going. “May as well be an open fucking book.”

Either his guard had no response to that, or he’d been told not to engage Darius in conversation--either option was likely, given his history. They walked in silence, Darius with his shoulders completely relaxed and at ease, hands shoved into his leather jacket’s pockets, the guard with his rifle held tightly in his grasp, barrel drifting every now and then in Darius’ direction, jaw clenched tightly enough Darius almost felt he could hear the man’s teeth grinding.

Darius wasn’t fool enough to be _really_ relaxed, deep in a den of wolves, even if he’d once been the best and fiercest of them. His ears were open, and his eyes wandered casually across doorways and windows, observing the goings-on within. Labs, both sealed and otherwise. Doctors and scientists in lab coats, goggles, and masks. His lip curled.

A sharp jab to his shoulder jerked Darius out of his wandering thoughts, and he turned a snarl on the guard, who looked like he was half a second from bolting under the weight of Darius’ menace, but valiantly attempted what he probably thought was a very fearsome glare. “Keep moving and don’t let your eyes wander, Archer,” he ordered, but Darius could hear the tremor just underneath the surface.

Turning fully, Darius raised a brow. “How you planning on stopping me, huh? You can’t shoot me. You _definitely_ can’t force me.” Leaning in slightly, letting his lip curve up in a grin, he felt the guard subconsciously pull away. “Guess you’ll just have to trust that I’m on my _best_ behavior.”

Smartly turning on his heel, Darius continued at a leisurely pace down the corridor, and only a few seconds later, heard the sound of his guard following. Down another elevator, _two, three, four, five_ floors later, Darius walked out and approached the secure gate, staffed by four armed and armored Mobius guards, without breaking a sweat.

“Hold right there, Archer.” One of them, someone with a squad leader’s designation, held up a hand, and Darius complied. “We need to recalibrate the system temporarily so you can pass through. The Administrator’s waiting in his office.”

“I know. I remember the way.” Several tense seconds passed in silence before a brief chime was heard, and assuming it was now safe for him to pass the security gate without being fried, Darius sauntered through. When the squad of four--plus his original guard--made a move to follow him in a neat and tidy fan, Darius rolled his eyes. “Thanks, guys, but I don’t need an escort. Really.”

“Administrator’s orders.” Walking beside him, the squad leader held his rifle in a more relaxed grip, still obviously ready to use it if Darius pulled anything funny, but obviously confident enough in his superior’s orders to assume he wouldn’t. At least _some_ people in Mobius still had at least a vague semblance of a spine...or an IQ. “I’m sure you understand, given your...reputation.”

Darius knew better than to think the Administrator was so afraid of him that he needed _five_ armed guards to escort him to his office, especially considering they’d be speaking in private, without guards at all. This was nothing but a display of power, an unnecessary reminder that Darius was not in control here. At least, the Administrator _assumed_ Darius wasn’t in control here, and for now, Darius would let him have that assumption. It’d come crashing down eventually.

In front of a set of familiar double doors, several inches thick and secured with biometric locks, the squad leader pulled his goggles down far enough to pass the retinal scan, and pulled his gloves off to press his fingertips to a screen. In front of a microphone, he spoke clearly, “Bright is the light that makes the deepest darkness,” and from within, locks clicked and a heavy metallic _thunk_ echoed briefly before fading. Swinging open on soundless hinges, the squad leader nodded Darius in, and the doors shut behind him.

Behind his desk like always, the Administrator waited, a faint, empty smile touching his cheeks. Darius wasn’t fooled by the mask; the fangs were readily visible just behind. Forgoing the couch kept a safe distance away from the Administrator’s defining features, Darius walked right up to the desk and met no resistance. “Nice showers. Why the fuck am I here?”

“That seems a question I should be asking you, Archer.” He didn’t move from his position in the desk chair, hands folded neatly atop the desk while his spine sat straight. “Considering the unfortunate terms we parted on.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Mobius was all about deception, working from the shadows, putting on masks and making them believable. Darius had been one of their best, was probably still one of their best, and it would still take everything in him to fool the person in front of him. “Kidman may have got me interested enough to risk coming here, but she didn’t give me any details. What the fuck is going on?”

A lie, dashed with a hint of truth. Darius _did_ know a great deal more than the Administrator would probably assume he did, but he would let it be a gauge of honesty. Plus, he couldn’t really afford to throw Kidman under the bus just yet, when she still apparently had a part to play in this mission.

“As I’m sure you must be somewhat aware,” rising from his chair, the Administrator turned his back on Darius, an obvious point that he was trying to make; he didn’t feel threatened in the slightest by Darius’ presence, and for now, Darius let him hang on to that, too, “we continued our experiments with STEM after the Beacon incident. Obtained more Core candidates, more... _stable_ ones. One in particular has been kept here, and thanks to her, the system she runs has been a remarkable success.”

“Sounds peachy. Still not hearing why you need me.”

“One week ago,” the Administrator turned back around, sifting through a few sheafs of paper on his desk before producing a file folder, holding it in one hand, “the Core ceased transmitting signals, and a team of technicians was sent within. Shortly thereafter, the entire system went silent, and we have had no further communication with anyone inside.” Reaching out, the Administrator handed Darius the file folder, which he took, and flipped open.

A photograph of a young girl, maybe five or six, stared back at him, with big blue eyes and black hair and a face empty of anything but the faintest trace of confusion, and hope. “Lily Castellanos,” Darius read aloud from the file, flipping through papers and photographs. Some of them were more recent, he had a feeling, since the girl looked a bit older, maybe nine or ten. “She’s your Core, then?”

If the Administrator was surprised by Darius’ easy acceptance of what had probably been a kidnapping and experimentation job on a young girl, he didn’t show it, though Darius doubted he felt anything anymore, anyway. “She is,” the Administrator leaned his hands on his desk, fixing Darius with that same intense gaze that made hardened veterans wither and fresh-faced rookies cry, the unseen bogeyman of Krimson City and probably plenty of places beyond, “and she is far too valuable to lose. The most stable Core candidate we’ve ever tested.”

“So it’s an asset retrieval mission.” This was mostly information Darius knew already, apart from the identity of the person he was supposed to retrieve, but it still told him something important--thus far, the Administrator had been honest with him. In an organization like Mobius, honesty was almost anathema, but the situation was clearly dire enough to warrant a little heresy if it achieved the greater end. “Where do I start?”

“There’s more.” Taking a seat back in his chair, the Administrator took the file back from Darius and set it on a corner of his desk. “Agent Kidman is bringing the Core’s father in for this mission.”

 _That_ was something Kidman had neglected to tell him, and he could probably even guess why--he wasn’t exactly known for being a team player. “You know I work better alone. Last thing anyone needs is some emotional complication making things harder.”

“It serves a dual purpose.” Leaning back in his chair, another expression of confident ease that would have made Darius curl his lip in any other circumstances, he continued, “Sebastian Castellanos is the only loose end from the Beacon incident. Bringing him here allows him the reunion with his daughter that he craves...and grants us an opportunity to remove a potential future complication later.”

 _Not exactly true that Castellanos is the_ only _loose end,_ Darius mused to himself, _but the other one has been fairly well handled._

Returning to the discussion at hand, Darius said, “Doubt it’ll be that easy, if he’s fighting for his kid.” While Darius himself had not personally experienced the fierce loyalty parents supposedly had for their children, his bond with his late brother was probably as close as he had ever gotten, and he could imagine the fallout from the father finding out he wasn’t supposed to leave the STEM system alive, and that his daughter _was_.

“Indeed. Which is why I want to make something very clear.” Leaning forward again, propping his elbows atop the desk, the Administrator’s gaze turned almost glacial, forgoing the falsely welcoming demeanor they’d started this conversation with. “Sebastian Castellanos will _not_ leave STEM. He will be needed to locate the Core, but once she is located...he will not be leaving.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Darius only just managed not to roll his eyes, but he had a feeling that would be stretching the Administrator’s hospitality just a bit too far. “If he doesn’t bite it before we’ve found the girl, I can take care of the rest.”

“I’m aware of your skillset, Archer.” The smile was back, the facsimile of it, at least, and Darius exerted a considerable effort to keep from fidgeting in place. Somehow the smile was more disturbing than the snarl. “Which brings me to what I am prepared to offer you if this mission is carried out successfully. You and I are both aware that your status as a senior agent lended you considerable latitude of information about us--information which you could have used against us.”

“What, and left a trail of signs pointing you right to me?” Darius did roll his eyes that time, with a snort empty of amusement. “I’m smarter than that.”

“Indeed. Considering that fact, and the considerable effort you would put in for this mission, we would be willing to...overlook our previous indiscretions.” The smile widened, and Darius’ stomach turned. “We achieved so much together, Archer. It would be a shame to throw it all away in the name of petty grudges.”

It could have been about either of them, but Darius wasn’t fool enough to take the bait. “So this is the deal: I get you the girl, you forget the past three years?”

“Broken down to its bare essentials, yes.” Raising a brow, the Administrator did not offer his hand to shake, but the deal itself was enough of a concession. “Is that agreeable?”

“Yeah, it is.” Darius narrowed his eyes. “For now.”

Appearing unfazed by the veiled threat, the Administrator nodded once. “Very good. You’ll be taken to the STEM room shortly.”

It was clearly a dismissal, and Darius shoved his hands back in his pockets as he approached the doors, which swung open as he got closer. This time, only the squad leader waited for him, and they fell into step until Darius reached a new part of the compound, letting his escort take the lead. He was shown to a control room, with a couch a few steps up from the computer terminals scattered down below. Probably so the Administrator could keep an eye on his experiment in usual comfort. Fucking prick.

From there, Darius was brought through another security door, down a hallway, around a corner, through yet _another_ security door, and when it opened, Darius had to make another effort not to let his reaction show on his face.

It looked different than Darius remembered, the STEM system in front of him, but there were parts of it that were familiar, too, and his stomach turned at the odd mix of indignation, anticipation, and disgust.

“You hooked Lily up to that... _machine?!”_ A sudden outburst came from somewhere to Darius’ right. He turned his head and saw a dark-haired man, strapped to a wheelchair, struggling fruitlessly against his bonds with his teeth bared, trying in vain to reach the Administrator, who stood a tantalizing distance away.

Darius could relate.

“Your daughter,” the Administrator was saying, “is quite special. One of the most stable Core candidates we’ve ever tested.”

It was really just a repeat of what the Administrator had told Darius a little while ago, so he tuned out that part of the conversation to weigh up Castellanos. Darius knew about him, of course, knew more than most anyone at Mobius would assume he knew, but it was different to hear things secondhand and see the man’s intensity for himself. Still apparently overcome by his rage, he continued to struggle against the bonds, which did not give under his strength. In a way, it was oddly admirable, if stupid.

“And there is one more thing,” the Administrator looked up and locked eyes with Darius, at which point Darius realized his escort must have left him, though he wasn’t sure when, because it was just him standing at the border of the room, “you will have assistance within STEM.”

Darius approached with his hands still shoved in his jacket pockets as Castellanos’ gaze jerked up to lock onto him, mistrust simmering in his brown eyes. “Thanks,” he said, sarcasm creeping into his tone, “but I work better alone.”

Surprising himself more than anything, Darius let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, this ought to be good. Two people who work better alone, having to work together. Can’t foresee _that_ going badly, no sir.”

“This,” the Administrator’s glare silently told Darius _behave,_ and Darius met it with cool, distant challenge, “is Darius Archer. He used to be one of our top agents for over fifteen years, before we had a...falling-out, shall we call it, three and a half years ago.” Darius felt Castellanos’ gaze turn more interested, curious, but still wary, and ignored it. “He has been on the run since then, but returned to us for the sake of this mission.”

“You’re sending him in to keep an eye on me.” Castellanos’ lip twisted again, breaking his study of Darius to turn his glare on the Administrator. “To make sure I can’t do anything you won’t like.”

So Castellanos _was_ a bit smarter than Darius might’ve given him credit for. “If it makes you feel any better,” Darius offered, “I’m not any more thrilled about this than you are. Working with Mobius _or_ going back into STEM. I left them for a reason.”

 _“'Back’_ into STEM?”

“Archer was involved in the development and testing of the original STEM system,” Kidman spoke up, fixing Darius with a look that told him to let her handle how much they wanted to share about his involvement, “and has probably been within a STEM system more than just about anyone in Mobius...even the ones who specialize in its study here.”

Castellanos’ curiosity was back, still mixed with that same wariness, and Darius had a feeling that was the best he could hope for. “We’re never going to be friends, Castellanos,” Darius said with a sharp grin, “but we have the same goals. If nothing else, you can trust I’ll stay focused on the mission.”

“I guess I’m not really being given a choice here,” Castellanos muttered, mutinously and indignantly under his breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

Darius was shown to the STEM tub next to where Castellanos was being wheeled, and he shucked his jacket, draping it carelessly atop the terminal itself before dropping himself within. The last time he’d been inside a STEM unit had been years ago, by now, and he’d never been connected to one of the wireless ones, but he still felt that same faint tingling across his skin, the oddly weightless feeling as the buoyancy fluid poured into the tub up to Darius’ hips.

Kidman was saying something to Castellanos as she tapped away on his terminal, and as he watched, she plugged a USB into the back of it, out of sight of the Administrator, who was striding briskly out of the STEM room doors.

“STEM entry in three...two... _one.”_


	2. Ylem

_noun:_ _the hypothetical initial substance of the universe from which all matter is derived_

* * *

Sebastian had never really considered himself the philosophical type.

Existential crises, the great and unknown expanse of the universe, those were things that existed in a realm far removed from his own. He had enough to worry about just generally keeping his shit together--or whatever passed for it these days--and trudging through miserable day after miserable day, greasing the gears with the strongest drink he could find at Krimson’s shittiest bars.

If he _had_ been the philosophical type, he might have been a little more awed at the void surrounding him, as far as he could see, and the...water? Maybe? Under his boots. Whatever it was, it sounded like he was walking on half-flooded streets when Krimson’s skies opened up during spring, and that was as deeply as he wanted to examine the sensation.

Though there was no obvious light source, a slight gleam reflected off the water’s surface, stark white, but soft enough not to blind him with the glare. Out of the darkness, a voice floated to him--his own.

 _“I know it’s hard to accept, Myra,”_ he heard his voice begin, and his throat tightened at the mere reminder of that day; just ahead of him, a shape materialized out of the darkness, and he recognized it as his house, _“but she’s gone. Our little girl is gone.”_

As he watched, the house erupted into flames, and in the back of his mind Sebastian knew it wasn’t real, knew it wouldn’t change the outcome of that day years ago when his footsteps echoed those he’d taken in the real world, but he took off at a dead sprint anyway.

The house disappeared as quickly as it came, and Myra’s voice snapped, _“No. I’ll never accept it. If you won’t help me, I’ll find out the truth on my own!”_

A loud _crack_ \--the sound of a gunshot--had Sebastian wheeling around to search for the source, and he found himself looking at a street sidewalk, unfamiliar, in the dead of night. Two amorphous shapes were running away from a figure sprawled on the sidewalk, a pool of blood slowly fanning out around him. A few steps later, Sebastian caught the sight of Archer in his peripheral vision a split second before a hand seized his upper arm and wrenched him around.

“It’s not real.” Archer said, keeping his gaze focused straight ahead, but Sebastian didn’t think it wise to ask whether he was trying to convince himself, or Sebastian.

It stood to reason that if they’d entered STEM at the same time, in the same manner, there was a good chance they would end up seeing some of what brought them here, but Sebastian wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of a Mobius agent--even a former one--seeing any of this.

Then again, it wasn’t like Archer had looked any more pleased about Sebastian seeing some of his own deep and dark secrets. So long as Archer left the topic alone, Sebastian would do the same. For now.

A flash of light interrupted his train of thought, and he raised a hand reflexively to block it, but it cleared in a flash...revealing the shape of a hospital, and the haunting sound of Claire de Lune.

 _“Detective,”_ Kidman’s voice echoed in the silence, _“we’ve got a call.”_

_“All units, all units, 11-99, expedite cover code 3: Beacon Mental Hospital.”_

As lost in the dread of that memory as he was, Sebastian almost didn’t register the scene changing. It looked like the inside of a laboratory, or half of one, at least--it faded away into nothingness even as Sebastian tried to focus his gaze on it more firmly. He _did_ very clearly hear Archer’s voice, however, even if he wasn’t present in the vision.

_“Don’t you fucking take him away from me, I’ll fucking kill you all!”_

“Really hope we don’t have to go through _every_ bit of past trauma to get into STEM,” Archer, the real one, muttered from Sebastian’s right, “or we’ll be here a while.”

Sebastian didn’t bother to respond, but silently agreed. Finally the laboratory faded away as well, and the thick, encompassing silence was replaced by the sound of...ringing?

“What the hell?” Sebastian muttered, and had to make an effort not to jump as Archer jostled his shoulder with his own, jerking his head in the direction of a desk when Sebastian turned around. It was a desk that seemed oddly familiar, and it was the only observable object in this space, so with a shrug, they walked towards it.

Two devices waited on its surface, resembling radios or particularly bulky walkie-talkies. Archer picked one up, and nothing happened, but when Sebastian reached down to retrieve the second, the fathomless void began to reshape itself around them, taking on a new appearance: desks, an L-shaped couch, windows with blinds that only halfway worked, black and white checkered tile--

It was his old office at KCPD. Right down to the ‘Detective Sergeant Sebastian Castellanos’ imprinted on the door’s window. His communicator was still ringing, so he hesitantly pressed a button, and Kidman’s voice emerged. “Sebastian? Archer?”

“Yeah, we’re...” Sebastian looked around the room, “...where are we?”

Archer snorted. “What, the name on the door didn’t make it obvious enough?”

He turned a scowl on Archer as Kidman replied, “This construct is called your ‘Room’. It’s a safe area separate from the main STEM system, which is why we’re able to maintain communication with you. It was formed out of your memories.”

“My memories, huh?” Sebastian retorted, a dry bitterness in the question. “If that’s the case, then where are my wife and child? And why is _he,_ ” Sebastian jerked his head at Archer even if he knew Kidman couldn’t see it, “here too?”

Unfazed, Archer’s grin was sharp and humorless. “Not everyone has the luxury of a place they consider ‘safe’, Castellanos. I’m probably co-opting yours since I went into the system with you.”

“A sound theory, but no way to test it--and no time.” Kidman’s brisk reminder of the mission made Sebastian begrudgingly set aside his irritation. “Let’s get down to business. There’s some information in your Room that should help you get started. Do you see anything out of the ordinary?”

“Some photos of a bunch of Mobius agents,” Sebastian turned his gaze onto a series of five photographs with brief details about each member, “your missing team, I assume?”

“That’s them.” Sebastian wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the idea of rescuing Mobius agents, but they might be useful in navigating this system. “Try to keep an eye out for them. They’re trapped in Union--the STEM environment, a small town--and have the same mission as you.”

_Not exactly the same, but close enough for now._

“Fucking hell,” Archer was saying as he examined the files more closely, “over half of this team are fucking _technicians_. Only two have even passable combat training. And you sent a _psychologist_ in there?”

“She’s also a medic, Archer--”

Kidman’s cold retort was cut off by Archer interjecting, “Which obviously did sweet fuck-all with the kind of things happening in here.” Archer’s lip curled. “What the hell happened to the old Mobius that would send a fully-armed fireteam into unknown situations? They can’t be _that_ low on people that are decent with guns.” Archer huffed. “Unless they were sending ‘em all after me.”

“We didn’t know what we were going to encounter in there, but we decided a tech team would be a reasonable first step--no one could’ve predicted this would be the result.” Kidman replied. “I have to go--your friend Nadia is awake, Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened at the mention of Nadia. He’d never intended for her to get dragged into a mess this big, but she’d made her stance perfectly clear the day he’d arrived on her doorstep the night of Beacon, and while she obviously didn’t regret it, Sebastian was starting to. “Okay. Just...don’t let them do anything to her.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Kidman promised, and the line cut off.

If Archer was curious about the mention of Nadia, or Sebastian’s reaction to her, he didn’t show it. “Since we don’t really know any of the team members’ last known locations--and it might be a moot point anyway if the environment is unstable--I think we’re just going to need to hit the ground running and see what happens.”

“Works for me.” Sebastian had a feeling Archer had been right, back in the STEM room, at least to some extent--they were never going to be friends, but so far it seemed as though he had a decently practical head on his shoulders.

On the other side of the main office room, Sebastian and Archer approached a mirror, and Archer stopped dead. “Wait. How are we supposed to leave?”

“Through that.” Sebastian gestured at the mirror.

“A mirror? What is this, some kind of fucked-up fairy tale?”

“It was the same way I used to enter and leave my old safe room, in the Beacon STEM system.” He felt oddly sheepish, but privately Sebastian himself wondered why exactly his brain had conjured a mirror instead of a regular door. He shook the thought loose. “Guess that’s how my brain remembers it.”

“Weird.” Archer regarded the mirror with a thoughtful scowl. “Could swear I’d seen that kind of mirror somewhere before. No idea where. Just seems oddly familiar.”

“You weren’t at Beacon. How could it be familiar?”

“Literally just fucking said I had no idea where I’d seen it before, Castellanos.” Archer rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go, yeah?”

Sebastian reached for the mirror at the same time as Archer, heard the tiny shattering sounds in the air that preceded harsh beams of light reaching out to grasp him, pull him through--

And he emerged alone.

His first thought was relief, because Archer’s company was abrasive at best, but his second was that this place, wherever it was, definitely didn’t look like a small town called Union. High above, curtains hung from a vaulted ceiling that could easily have held several cars stacked on top of each other. Rich wooden paneling was shrouded by the curtains’ length, and as Sebastian slowly made his way from the back of the room to what he supposed had to be the front, one of the curtains slowly lifted, revealing an open door.

Nothing about this situation seemed safe, but being led anywhere inside a STEM environment brought back troubling memories of Beacon--being shifted around at Ruvik’s will, dropped down hallways that were also tunnels until he inevitably landed hard, a fall that would have been fatal several times over in the real world, never being aware where he might end up.

A cold dread sat in a pit in Sebastian’s stomach, but with no other readily available options, he made his way towards the open door. The room he found himself in was confusing to say the least--the floor only extended a few meters out from the walls, dropping off into endless void as far as Sebastian could see, and on the wall in front of him, a picture was hung of what looked like _another_ door.

The quiet _click_ from behind him made Sebastian whip his head around, and he saw...the door from the photo?

Reaching out with one hand, Sebastian carefully turned the doorknob, but paused before opening it. A metal plaque was hung next to the door frame, reading ‘William Baker’. The name made Sebastian frown; it seemed familiar somehow.

Pushing the door open and clicking on a flashlight, Sebastian cautiously made his way down the corridor, lined with more doors identical to the one he’d come through, though all of these were soundly locked. The distant, somehow menacing sound of classical music--not Claire de Lune this time, thankfully--began to drift from the room in front of him, along with a faint blue glow.

When Sebastian rounded the corner, he didn’t quite know what exactly he was looking at, but in a word, he could say it was _disturbing_.

A man in a Mobius uniform appeared trapped inside of a prism of energy, slowly falling backwards with a spray of blood and brain matter exploding outward from his skull. His face was frozen in an expression of shock and fear, and, most bizarrely of all, a camera sat in front of the whole thing, like someone was documenting it.

On the man’s uniform was a name tab stitched with the name ‘BAKER’, and a small insignia that had to be a squad leader or commanding officer’s symbol. The team leader, dead. It sure didn’t bode well for the rest of the team.

Carefully skirting around the macabre display, Sebastian continued down several progressively more confusing corridors--some of which disappeared into shadow like the first room, some of which were decorated by those same long curtains--until reaching a set of double doors. Laying a hand on the door, Sebastian leaned his ear against it to try and listen on the other side. Only silence reached him, so he eased the door on the left open, and poked his head within.

A wider, more open room awaited him, but he didn’t get to see much of it before a hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him down to the floor. Already gearing up to retaliate, Sebastian wheeled around with a fist raised before identifying Archer, who already, somehow, had a wound weeping blood on his shoulder, a knife slash by the looks of it. Archer held up one finger to his mouth to silence Sebastian, who was already opening his mouth to ask what the hell was going on. Moving his finger from his mouth to the other side of the room, Sebastian followed Archer’s gesture just in time for another person to come bolting, panicked, from a door they couldn’t see from this angle.

Moving to stand and offer the person help, Archer’s hand tightened in Sebastian’s sleeve and he pointed again, more emphatically, as someone new appeared in a blink: a man with black hair, wearing a blue suit. Taking a single step forward towards the panicked man, the man in the suit stabbed the unfortunate victim in the stomach before ripping a slash clean through his torso at the same time a camera shutter went off, trapping the man in the same kind of prism box Sebastian had found the Mobius team leader trapped in.

A wooden _clack_ echoed through the room as a picture frame leaned against their temporary hiding spot fell to the floor, and both Sebastian and Archer froze on the spot. Moving slowly around the edge of a couch within the room, the pair stayed out of sight as the man in the blue suit investigated the noise--after what he’d just seen, Sebastian wasn’t eager to face him head-on without a weapon.

The door where Sebastian had come in closed behind the man in the blue suit, and with a brief flash of blue under the door--the same as the one that announced his arrival--Sebastian assumed the man was gone.

Releasing a breath, Sebastian demanded, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Had a run-in with our new friend.” Archer jerked his head in the direction of the now-closed door. “Thought I could overpower him, but his teleporting trick got me. It’s not fatal. I’m sure you’re disappointed.”

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Sebastian took in the rest of the room, allowed his memories from his exploration thus far to settle in. “This sure as hell isn’t a small town like we were expecting.”

“No, it’s not.” Archer rolled his shoulder, wincing as his wound was shifted. “And that means things have got to be a whole lot more complicated than we thought.”

* * *

This wasn’t the first time Nadia had woken up with a splitting headache.

They’d become commonplace enough in the past five years, in fact, that she barely noticed them anymore, but this one, this one actually hurt a bit. She had vague memories of a bar, of coming out from the bathroom to find Sebastian locked in a struggle with two men wearing suits, jumping into the fray to help him, and having something injected into her neck.

And now she was in a hospital bed. Or something like it. She had a feeling it wasn’t any ordinary hospital considering there were no windows, or even the vague attempts at comforting decor most hospital rooms had. The only thing that separated it from Nadia’s impressions of what prison cells looked like--obtained entirely from cop drama shows--was the presence of medical equipment, even if none of it was actually hooked up to her.

Plus the armed guard at the door didn’t really make her feel welcome, either.

Stretching with a groan, the guard’s gaze snapped over to her. “Don’t move,” he ordered, so Nadia didn’t move. A split second’s analysis revealed a symbol on his body armor, identical to the one Sebastian had described from the STEM room at Beacon--Mobius.

“What’s going on?” Nadia managed to ask, hoping talking didn’t count as moving. “Where am I?”

“Agent Kidman,” the guard spoke quietly into a radio, ignoring Nadia’s questions, “Castellanos’ companion has woken up... Roger that.”

“Can I move now?” Nadia asked, arms still stretched out above her head and toes pointed where her legs stretched atop the hospital bed. “This isn’t really ideal, you know.”

Nadia received a withering glare and a dismissive hand-wave in response. Taking that as a clear ‘I don’t give a fuck what you do’ answer, Nadia swung her legs over the side of the hospital bed and focused on not letting her head spin with how badly it ached.

A few minutes later, a door lock clicked, and the door slid open, revealing Kidman. She nodded at the guard, who returned it, then left the room, letting the door shut behind him. Nadia’s eyes followed Kidman as she approached and stood a few feet away, hands linked behind her back.

As a general rule, Nadia could get along with almost anyone--she was just personable enough and just patient enough to weather even the most awkward social encounters, and even on the rare occasions she couldn’t get along with someone enough to fake politeness, she could keep a distant grin plastered to her face almost indefinitely.

The only exception to that rule were people who’d already proven themselves untrustworthy, and at the moment, Nadia knew Kidman was just about at the top of the list of people Sebastian didn’t trust, with good reason. “Guess we have you to thank for the hospitality, huh?”

“Nadia.” Kidman nodded once. “It’s good to see you again, even under the circumstances.”

“I’m sure. You’re practically jumping for joy.” Nadia rolled her eyes and her shoulders, stretching, before gripping the edge of the bed with both hands. “What do you want? Where’s Sebastian?”

“That’s...complicated.” Kidman turned to leave, and gestured for Nadia to follow; she rose after a split-second, ensuring she wouldn’t immediately tip over upon standing. Reasonably sure she wouldn’t pass out, Nadia followed Kidman out of the room and into a clean, sterile-looking corridor. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you’re in a Mobius facility. We brought you here--well, Sebastian, technically--for a mission.”

“It’d be a cold day in hell before Sebastian helped you people,” Nadia turned a glare on Kidman as they walked, passing by a few more personnel in the halls, but Nadia tuned them out, “so you’re going to have to come up with something better than that.”

“You’re right--he wouldn’t help us. Not unless it was something important on the line.” Stopping at a central area with plants encased in glass--probably fake ones, since Nadia couldn’t see any way to water them--Kidman folded her arms, and Nadia copied the gesture. “Lily is still alive. And she’s with us. She was taken to be the Core of a new STEM system, and everything had been running smoothly...until recently.”

“You sent Sebastian _back_ into STEM?” Nadia’s memory briefly calls to mind images of Sebastian in the past three years: waking up in a cold sweat with a gasp that Nadia had somehow attuned herself to awaken to even in her deepest sleep, sitting up with him until sunrise, keeping them both plied with coffee--and drink--to get through the day. Lowering her voice to a fierce whisper, Nadia demanded, “Do you have any idea how badly it fucked him up the first time?”

“We didn’t have a choice. He needed to be here, and he’s being given the chance to save the daughter he thought was dead.” Kidman’s blue eyes were clear and cold as a winter morning in Krimson, and Nadia’s lip twisted. “You were...a complication. Now I suppose we’d call you ‘collateral’.”

“Or, in other words, a hostage, basically.”

“I guess you could consider it that way.” Kidman shrugged. “If your presence here keeps Sebastian on the straight-and-narrow, that’s just a bonus.”

“You do realize if it comes down to a decision between me and his kid, he’s going to pick Lily.”

“You don’t sound very concerned about that fact.”

“Why should I be? One of us should get to have their life back, and he’s the only one where it’s even possible.”

“Regardless,” Kidman began to walk, and this time Nadia was more easily able to keep pace, “I’ve managed to get you access to the STEM room so we can both monitor them while they’re within the system.”

“‘Them’?”

“We sent an ex-agent in with Sebastian, Darius Archer--he’s got more experience in STEM than most of Mobius, even the agents who have been working on the STEM project since before Beacon.”

She was tempted to ask why the hell Mobius would risk sending an _ex-_ agent into STEM rather than one currently employed by them--not to mention how one became an ex-agent in the first place, seeing as employment in Mobius didn’t really look like it came with a nonlethal severance package--but Nadia had a feeling Kidman couldn’t, and wouldn’t, tell her everything.

For now, Nadia had been assured that Sebastian was alive and that she’d be able to help monitor him, which was more than she’d been expecting.

Pushing open a final security door, another Mobius agent at a terminal across the room said, “Agent Kidman? We’ve lost contact with the Marker, as well as Archer. We can’t track their location on the STEM map, almost like there’s some kind of interference.”

Any relief Nadia had felt only a moment ago evaporated into cold dread.

“Keep trying,” Kidman ordered, sliding into a computer chair and gesturing absently at a spare one for Nadia, which she rolled over before sitting in, “and let me know if anything changes.”

Through the windows, Nadia looked down into the STEM room. Sebastian had described Beacon’s STEM room to her before, but his descriptions didn’t quite live up to the striking, foreboding feeling the room gave off, cold and clinical and very, very dangerous. Suppressing a shiver, Nadia folded her arms again, though this time it was more a gesture of comfort than anything else.

 _Come on, Seabass,_ Nadia thought as her gaze found Sebastian again, _don’t leave us hanging._


	3. Satisfice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up folks, I've never been able to stick to a schedule in my life--have three more chapters since they're done being edited and just burning a hole in my figurative pocket

_verb:_ _to choose or adopt the first satisfactory option that one comes across_

* * *

One could say that in his line of work, Darius had learned to tell the perfect lie to just about anyone.

It was a skill that was practically second nature these days, a skill acquired for survival above all else, but he was _good_ at it, and a part of him enjoyed it; enjoyed that he could fool people as easily as he could.

Not everyone was susceptible, of course, and Castellanos was sharp; sharper than Darius might’ve originally given him credit for. A flat lie wouldn’t have worked, but a half-truth? A lie by omission? A cakewalk.

Darius hadn’t strictly been lying when he’d told Castellanos about his run-in with the knife-wielding tuxedo bastard, but he sure hadn’t told the whole truth, either.

The _truth_ was, Darius had stumbled upon something as soon as he’d woken up in this fucking studio or whatever the hell it was supposed to be. A feeling, a _power_ , tingling in his extremities just on the edge of feeling like that pins-and-needles asleep feeling his limbs got when sleeping sitting up.

He’d never been in a STEM system besides Ruben’s, but even that split second of consideration had confirmed Ruben’s old theory. He’d even gotten the chance to put it to the test sooner than he’d expected, and--thank fucking God--out of Castellanos’ sight.

People were always willing to believe in the fallibility of others, and Darius wasn’t so prideful he couldn’t use that to his advantage when appropriate. Darius _had_ been caught by surprise, but not by the tuxedo man’s teleporting--he’d been caught by his _camera._

Trapped in a prism of light with his hand automatically reaching for a weapon that he didn’t have, Darius had been forced to watch as the man surveyed him, walking around the box, _hmm_ -ing and tapping his lip with his eye narrowed. He’d even made like he was going to stab Darius a few distinct times throughout his examination, the knife coming close enough Darius could feel it against his clothes, but the only reaction it would’ve provoked in him--if he’d been able to fucking _move_ \--was an eye-roll.

“So many blank canvases come into this space,” the man mused, almost to himself, standing in front of Darius again, “and I shape them into works of beauty, easily painted in the shades of their fear and despair. But _you,”_ the knife returned into the prism, tracing along Darius’ throat, “you are _empty_ of it. It is unlike anything I have seen before in this world.”

 _Hard to be afraid when you’ve got nothing to lose._ The dry retort was on the tip of Darius’ tongue, not that he could say it at the moment, which was a damn shame.

“It has been some time since I was faced with such a challenge,” the man tapped his lip with the knife, still halfway lost in thought, “but I can rise to it. I must. Such an opportunity must not be wasted.” Refocusing on Darius again with his only visible eye--the other one covered by locks of black hair--the man told him, “You, I think, are a diamond in the rough--unpolished, scattered with imperfections--but soon you will be a masterpiece.”

“If Mobius couldn’t make me perfect,” Darius managed to grunt out, with effort, “you sure as hell won’t be able to.” Speech. It was progress. It was _something,_ and that told Darius he might be able to break the prism.

Focusing all his effort on _moving_ , Darius felt his muscles trembling with the effort, but nothing moved. Instead, he focused on his _feet_ , planted on the ground, and the floor beneath them, stretching out to where the man with the camera and knife stood. He focused on that point, _pulled_ \--

\--and was suddenly, _perfectly_ , within strangling range. The look of absolute surprise on the camera man’s face had been worth every second Darius had been poked and prodded by his knife.

The slash he got across his shoulder as the camera man recovered, less so.

As he and Castellanos continued to wander the halls of the studio, Darius considered his escape from the light prism. He hadn’t broken the prism so much as he’d simply ceased to exist within its boundaries. It had winded him, which left his guard down as the knife made contact with his shoulder, but he’d manipulated the environment to his advantage, in an environment Ruben _hadn’t_ created.

If Darius made it out of here, he had a feeling Ruben would have a fucking field day with _that._

Down an elevator, the pair found themselves in a storage room of sorts. Wooden crates were stacked behind chain-link barriers, with long pieces of cloth draped over some of them. At the other end of the room was a mirror, or maybe just a very opaque piece of mirrored glass.

Out of the corner of his eye, Darius spotted a flash of red behind the glass, contrasting with pale skin, and elbowed Castellanos to get his attention; when they both turned, however, instead of a woman in a red dress with dark hair, as Darius had _thought_ he’d seen, something else was in its place, and the only term Darius could think to describe it was _fucking disgusting._

It was still a woman, or at least some vague approximation of one, a massive woman made up of the bodies of a lot of _other_ women, with too many heads for Darius to count, eyes red and mouth curved in an unnaturally-wide grin as she laughed. The sound made the hair on the back of Darius’ neck stand on end, but he was _immediately_ more concerned with the sound of a circular saw spinning up on her--its?--right hand, caked with what looked like dried blood and fuck knew what else.

Both he and Castellanos dove in two different directions as the woman--or whatever the fuck it was--slammed her saw hand through the glass, shattering it and revealing a hallway just beyond. Sparing only the slightest glance in Castellanos’ direction--though at this point Darius was almost ready to just say ‘fuck it’ and strike out alone--Darius took off down the hall, and heard the sound of Castellanos’ footsteps on his heels.

The sound of haunting, disturbingly twisted laughter chased them down the corridor as Darius darted around and vaulted over a series of crates and metal barriers. Thanks to both Mobius’ dubious intervention and his own particularly active lifestyle the past few years, his stamina was better than that of the average man his age, but his time away from Mobius’ higher-octane missions had obviously taken its toll. He wasn’t breathing hard by the time he--and Castellanos, who had somehow managed to keep up during the chase--made it into a storage room and slammed the door, but he could feel his heart racing, and forced himself to measure his breaths.

Darius turned after setting the doorknob’s lock, which was honestly fucking useless, but what did they have to lose, and-- “It’s a fucking dead end.”

Immediately, Darius’ attention turned towards finding _something_ in this room he could use as a weapon or at least a diversion, but Castellanos was already darting across the room, where a ladder leaned against the wall right where a vent in the ceiling was open. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than sitting here and waiting to be sawed in half by _whatever_ the fuck was outside the door.

Castellanos was already halfway up the ladder when the door creaked and groaned under the strain of pressure being placed on it. The screech of metal on metal and the laughter on the other side set Darius’ hair on end all over again.

As Castellanos hauled himself up into the vent and Darius placed his foot on the ladder’s bottom rung with his hand on the top, the door slammed open, the sound of that circular saw creeping up Darius’ chest, and he had time for only one definitive thought: _I’m not gonna fucking die like this._

Already moving to dismount the ladder and bolt, Darius was surprised by a hand grabbing his wrist and _pulling_ , and despite his shock, in the high-pressure environment, Darius’ typical fight-or-flight priorities aggressively reasserted themselves.

_Every man for himself--especially me._

Yanking his arm free without sparing a glance up at Castellanos, who’d obviously tried to grab him, Darius slipped around to the other side of the room, and the woman with the saw’s attention turned back to him as he returned the way he’d come, sprinting through the broken-open door. In the back of his mind, Darius was aware he was inadvertently leading the creature away from Castellanos, but that was just a side effect--Darius wasn’t exactly in the habit of relying on people to save him; his best chance of survival, as always, had been when his life was in his _own_ hands.

He had absolutely zero fucking idea where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to put as much distance as possible between him and that fucking monstrosity on his heels. The longer the chase went on, though, the more Darius was forced to admit that being away from Mobius’ conditioning and augmentations for the past three years _had_ , in fact, taken its toll. He couldn't keep going at this pace forever, and that meant he needed a new plan.

Careening around a corner, Darius only had a split second to register that this hallway was _another_ dead end before the sound of the saw swinging through the air immediately took priority, and he ducked as the saw slammed into the wall, shattering stone and brick and scattering them across the floor.

Through the new hole in the wall, Darius saw red light, which was almost never a good sign, but it was the only potential escape he saw, so he dove through, almost landing directly on top of Castellanos, who was coming through a set of double doors on the perpendicular wall. The look of surprise on Castellanos’ face abruptly cleared and he took to his heels, Darius effortlessly keeping pace.

In the single second it took for Darius to look over his shoulder to check how much distance they had from the saw-handed woman, Castellanos cried out suddenly in pain, and his presence at Darius’ side abruptly vanished. Wheeling around, Darius found Castellanos on the floor, a knife in his chest, and their pursuer practically right on fucking top of them.

Darius dove out of the way as the woman picked Castellanos up with one massive hand, and the sound of metallic clattering on the floor drew Darius’ gaze to where the knife had landed on the floor, still coated with blood.

_A weapon. Fucking finally._

God only fucking knew where Darius could stick this knife that would actually be effective on a creature this size, but anyplace was better than nothing. Sinking the knife deep in what would’ve been the creature’s shoulder before yanking it free, she wailed in shock, dropping Castellanos to the floor. He was already struggling to his feet, towards the bright white light coming from an open set of double doors. They reached the doors at the same time, diving through--

\--and landed in a bedroom.

It definitely didn’t look like the studio they’d just left behind, and that was good enough for Darius.

Rain pattered outside, landing against a windowpane in an oddly familiar sound that dredged up a feeling Darius hesitated to identify as _nostalgia_ before he promptly dismissed it. The bedroom had that down-home country feel that bedrooms in some of the old, shitty movies Darius watched on motel TVs had, with its rougher wood paneling, windows with hints of dust or dirt in between the panes of glass, and well-worn, slightly stained carpet of indefinable color. The furniture was in disarray, with the bed frame crooked where it sat near the wall and the mattress leaned haphazardly on top of it.

Castellanos coughed, and Darius abruptly remembered, _right, stab wound, should probably deal with that._

“Keep pressure on that wound.” Darius shoved open the bedroom door after a cursory attempt to listen for anyone else that might’ve been in the house, but heard nothing. He came out into what looked like a combination living room and kitchen area, but didn’t find anything that looked like a first aid kit, so he kept looking.

Fortunately, the bathroom had a standard first aid kit, as well as what looked like a syringe with two liquids inside, one green, one blue. It didn’t look like a standard piece of Mobius medical equipment--it looked like it should’ve been in a museum, actually--but Darius brought it with him anyway, shouldering the bedroom door open and dropping the first aid kit on the nearby desk.

Even as he pulled the roll of gauze free, though, Castellanos’ eyes immediately locked on the syringe, of all things. “What’s that?”

“This?” Darius gestured at the syringe. “Fuck if I know. It was with the rest of the first aid kit. Does it matter?”

“I recognize it. These kinds of syringes were in Beacon.” Castellanos’ hand was already around the syringe before Darius could respond, and he bared his arm to inject it by the time Darius managed to set the roll of gauze down harder than he probably needed to.

“So you’re going to inject yourself with a weird, mysterious syringe you’ve found in a fucked-up STEM world, and don’t expect that to have consequences later?”

“They had healing properties in Beacon,” Castellanos set his jaw, “and there’s no reason to believe it’ll do anything different now.”

Darius shrugged, and ripped a section of gauze off for himself, laying it against the slash wound he’d gotten earlier and securing it with medical tape. “Your funeral.”

As Darius got the kit together, though, he felt more than saw Castellanos’ hesitation, and when he turned back around, Castellanos was considering him, or more accurately, the wound on his shoulder, still sluggishly weeping blood through the layer of gauze he’d put on it. “You got hit too.”

There was obvious reluctance in Castellanos’ voice, but also sincerity, and Darius snorted internally. _Thanks, but I work better alone,_ Castellanos had said, yet it was obvious he was dying to look after _someone_. “Take the damn syringe. I don’t need your help. And speaking of which,” Darius hadn’t had time to consider it during their mad sprint away from the saw woman, but now would be a perfect time to address Castellanos apparently trying to save him earlier, “what the fuck were you thinking, trying to pull me into that vent?”

“Guess I was under the impression that you wanted to survive this mission,” Castellanos retorted as he pressed the syringe to his arm and injected it, “but apparently that’s not the case.”

“Like I said: I don’t need your help. I stand a better chance of surviving by watching my own back than letting someone do it for me. What do you care?”

There was an internal struggle going on behind Castellanos’ eyes, Darius could see it, but in the end he said nothing, hauling himself to his feet. “This looks more like the right place,” he said, getting back to a practical conversation topic, “but it feels...”

“Quiet.” Darius supplied, shoving the first aid kit into one of his pockets. “Too quiet.”

After confirming once again that the house was empty, Darius went to the door and pushed it open, stepping out onto a porch and enveloped suddenly by the sound and smell of the rain. It wasn’t real, and Darius knew it wasn’t real, but STEM, at its core, was all about tricking the brain into thinking it was. He might’ve been able to halt the illusion or at least peel some of the layers away, with the power he apparently had in this system, but for now, he let it be whatever it was.

Castellanos huffed quietly behind him, with amusement, as Darius found out when he turned around to find a dry, weary smile tugging at the corner of Castellanos’ mouth. “Could’ve used this a few minutes ago,” he said, holding up a pistol.

“Doubt it would’ve made that much of a difference against that thing. Whatever the fuck it was.” Considering the knife still tucked in his belt from earlier, Darius nodded towards the gun. “Keep that. Better than nothing, at least.”

In silence, they walked down the short asphalt road until reaching another house. A flash of movement drew Darius’ eye, and he saw a woman running up from the road to the house, ignoring Castellanos’ shout of, “Hey!” in favor of shutting the door behind her.

“She had to have heard.” Darius’ lip twisted, and his finger tapped on the hilt of the knife where it was sheathed in his belt. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s the only possible lead we’ve seen so far. We may as well check it out.”

Knocking on the door was useless, but it did creak open at Castellanos’ touch, so with a shared glance, he pushed it open the rest of the way, taking out the pistol as the faint, indistinct sound of a voice came from somewhere else in the house. Not upstairs, it was too close for that, so that meant it was probably behind the closed door just down the hall, across from the stairs.

Leaning into the open living room area, Darius found another door that looked like it had to connect to the same room. Tapping Castellanos on the shoulder, he pointed at the hallway door, then turned himself towards the living room door, raising his brows. He didn’t want to risk talking when they didn’t know what they were walking into, but hoped that somehow Castellanos would get enough of his plan to go along with it.

Apparently he did, because when Darius split up and started creeping through the living room, he had no comment. Or maybe he just didn’t give a shit what Darius did, which was fine by him.

Waiting by the living room door, Castellanos was no longer in Darius’ line of sight, but it was easy to tell when shit went sideways, because he could hear a scream that definitely wasn’t Castellanos, reverberating in some eerie tone he didn’t like, not one bit. Kicking the door open, knife in hand, Darius came upon the sight of a man sitting in a kitchen chair with a bloody nose and forehead, a blank and empty expression on his face that said he was almost definitely dead.

There was the sound of a struggle, then two gunshots, and Darius leaned his head around the other door to find Castellanos on the floor with the pistol in hand, and the woman from before sprawled across the wooden boards in the hallway, blood splattered on the nearby wall.

It was only when she began to _rise_ again Darius came to the realization they might actually be fucked.

He moved on instinct, sinking the knife deep into the juncture of shoulder and neck, ripping a wide slash and shoving the corpse away, definitely dead this time, with what looked like white... _tentacles?_ Fucking hell--coming out of her head. Even dead, her eyes glowed an angry red, face twisted into a fatal snarl, skin covered in some kind of growth Darius couldn’t identify.

Castellanos had regained his feet by now and joined Darius in looking down at the woman, transformed into something else. In the silence, the sound of Castellanos’ communicator going off made both of them jump slightly, but Darius shook it off with a roll of his shoulders. Castellanos picked up the communicator and said, “Kidman?”

“Sebastian! Where have you been? We lost track of you for a while.”

“Hell if I know, but it sure as fuck wasn’t a small, quiet little town.” Turning away from the corpse of the creature they’d just killed, Castellanos began to pace, filled with angry, restless energy. “And there’s fucking _creatures_ here, Kidman, just like in Beacon. What the fuck did you just send me into?”

“I don’t know.” Kidman’s frustration, as far as Darius could tell, was genuine. “We’re completely in the dark here. But if something’s changing the Union citizens, this is worse than we thought.”

“Yeah, no shit. This may as well be Beacon all over again--no, it’s worse,” Castellanos was practically spitting down the communicator at this point, and Darius was gratified to know there was at least a little fire left in the man, “because my _daughter_ wasn’t at Beacon!”

“Okay, calm down.” Kidman’s voice was anything but placating, but then Darius doubted anything was really capable of calming Castellanos down at the moment. “Have you found any of the Mobius team members so far?”

“Baker, but he’s dead.” That was a surprise--Darius hadn’t seen anyone yet, but he had no reason to think it was a lie so far. “There’s some killer running around in here with powers like...I don’t even know, but it’s bad.”

“Can you tell me anything about the killer? I might be able to find some information on him.”

“I can,” Darius unclipped his own communicator to answer, “he took me by surprise, but I got a decent look at him. About five foot ten, black hair covering one eye, blue suit. He had an accent, maybe Italian? Hard to tell.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.” Kidman’s skepticism raised Darius’ hackles.

“Well, my _sincerest_ apologies, Kidman, but I didn’t exactly have time for a formal fucking introduction, unless the introduction of his knife to my shoulder fucking counts.” Darius snapped. “Not sure if it helps any, but he styles himself as some kind of artist--there were pictures all around the place, almost like a studio.”

“I’ll do what I can, but if you can give me anything else later, that would help.” Kidman replied. “Keep me posted.”

“Wait, Kidman.” Castellanos hesitated, gaze flickering to Darius for a split second before looking away. “How’s Nadia?”

Kidman paused for a beat. “She’s fine. She’s with me here in the control room, actually, if you want to speak to her.”

“Just for a minute.” Castellanos didn’t fidget, but Darius could tell it was taking considerable effort for him not to.

There was another pause, then the voice that came on the line was definitely not Kidman’s. “Hey, Seabass. About damn time you checked in, I was this close to telling your buddy Kidman here that _I_ needed to go in after you.”

Castellanos’ smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but some of the tension in his brow disappeared. “Can’t say you’d like it in here. It’s kind of a mess.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Nadia’s voice dropped just slightly, into a more careful and less teasing tone. “Be careful in there, yeah? I wouldn’t really be of much use in there, if things are really as bad as you’re saying, but I’ll be out here if you need a pep talk.”

“Thanks, Nadia.” Castellanos sighed and clipped the communicator back to his belt.

Darius made it an admirable ten minutes later, walking down the road towards the only obviously available destination, before asking, “So. This Nadia. She your girl?”

Castellanos was apparently so shocked by the question that he stopped dead in the road and stared at Darius, agape. “That’s really your most pressing question right now?”

“What the fuck else do we have to talk about?”

“If I’d known Mobius was sending a _chatty_ agent in with me...” Castellanos muttered, but picked up his pace again and continued, “No. Nadia’s a friend, a good friend, but she, uh, doesn’t have any taste in men, so to speak.”

Darius chewed that over as they walked. The idea of ‘friends’ was a dangerous one in his line of work, and even allies were a bit of a stretch, but it was difficult for Darius to suspend his disbelief enough to accept that someone really would follow Castellanos into the depths of the wolf’s den with her own admittance that she didn’t have any skills capable of helping them. Not unless she was somehow getting something in return, and Darius had spent enough time on Mobius’ seduction details to have some idea what might persuade people to do outlandish things, but if Castellanos was being honest, even _that_ was apparently off the table for this Nadia, whoever she was.

“And what’s she getting out of this whole...” Darius waved his hand absently, “...business?”

“What?”

“All right, let me rephrase,” Darius peered into the driver’s side window of a car stalled on the side of the road, reaching in to grab a small canister of gunpowder before continuing, “what the fuck could possibly convince her to come all this way and throw herself into a situation she has no control over?”

“What does it matter to you?” Castellanos was raising his guard again, a surprisingly intuitive move on his part. It still irked him.

“It doesn’t,” Darius snapped, and dropped the topic. It didn’t matter, it really, honestly didn’t, but some part of Darius that refused to be entirely subdued was deeply, almost desperately curious at the motivation behind it all. It spoke of a loyalty that was basically unheard-of, even with a hell of a bribe or incentive.

They continued in silence until reaching what looked like the outskirts of Union itself. Buildings with homey, warm-toned street lights outside painted a perfect picture of idyllic serenity. Except for the ravenous formerly-human creatures pursuing two more people across the street, that was _definitely_ a contrast.

Ducking down behind a nearby car, both he and Castellanos had apparently come to the tacit agreement that taking on a whole group that size with only a knife and a pistol between them was a stupid idea at best, and watched as two people--both in Mobius uniforms--ran away from the horde in a mad rush.

One of them stumbled, and the man in the lead turned and fired into the crowd with an assault rifle, scattering a few of them as he barked a command at the man who’d fallen. They both turned, but with his back to the group, the man with the rifle was taken by surprise, tackled to the asphalt by two of the pursuing creatures. Pausing for only a heartbeat, the second man sprinted towards a nearby home, opening the door and slamming it shut.

By now, the screams of the man under attack had faded, and several of the creatures were swarmed around his body, blood spreading out in a pool around them. “Fucking brutal,” Darius muttered under his breath.

“We could try and take them by surprise.” Castellanos’ face said he’d really rather not, and for once, Darius was in agreement.

“Why don’t we just keep a low profile instead, yeah?” Darius nodded towards the house. “Whoever’s in there, he’s a Mobius agent, and he’s the first one we’ve seen alive. Still...” Darius’ gaze wandered over to where the other Mobius agent had fallen, voice turning wistful, “...that rifle could’ve been useful.”

Ejecting the clip in his pistol, Castellanos regarded the horde before them with a thoughtful scowl. “I have five rounds left. I could try and draw them away with one or two shots.”

“With only five bullets left, you should be shooting to _kill_ , not to distract.”

“I never said I wouldn’t be shooting to kill.” Castellanos fixed him with a glare. “If we want that rifle, it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

Darius chewed it over for a few seconds, but the allure of having a weapon besides a fucking _knife_ was ultimately too powerful to resist. “All right. I’ll move when it’s clear enough. On your mark.”

Unsheathing the knife, Darius tensed on his ankles and waited for the telltale sound of a gunshot, like the world’s shittiest foot race. Darius wasn’t a sprinter, endurance was more his thing, but he’d just have to fucking adapt, now wouldn’t he?

The sharp _crack_ of the gunshot went off, and a split second later, Darius was sprinting in the direction of the fallen Mobius grunt just as the bulk of the horde dispersed, headed for the sound of Castellanos’ gunshot. His pistol went off once, twice more, as Darius skidded to a halt and slung the assault rifle’s strap, damp with blood, over one arm for leverage. Leveling the barrel at the crowd, Darius picked off three with short bursts, but it was clear they’d be better off hauling ass instead of taking them all on.

“The house!” Darius pointed at the doorway they’d seen the other Mobius agent pass through a few moments before, and slammed it open with one shoulder; Castellanos came skidding to a halt just inside, and as soon as Darius shut the door, both of them reached up to pull a bookcase down to block the door’s path.

“Hopefully that should hold them.” Castellanos leaned back and regarded their handiwork. His gaze turned towards a set of stairs leading down into a basement of sorts. “I’ll go clear the floor down there.”

“Might be supplies here we could use.” Darius was already opening drawers and rifling through them. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to hear if you get shot. Or mauled.”

The sound of Castellanos’ footsteps on the stairs began to recede as Darius continued to ransack any available drawer or cabinet. He didn’t find much, and was about to give up and see what Castellanos was doing when, in the final drawer, a metallic glint caught his eye. Reaching in with one hand, Darius retrieved another syringe, but this one wasn’t anything like the syringe he’d found in that empty house earlier. This one was a Mobius standard syringe, sleek and matte steel in color, with a tiny view of the vial inside, which apparently had some kind of deep orange liquid in it.

Orange. It seemed oddly familiar. Frowning thoughtfully, Darius turned the syringe every which way, trying to determine where he’d seen it before.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a voice shouting, “Don’t come any closer!” and Castellanos calling back, “Okay! Don’t shoot!”

Rolling his eyes, Darius shoved the Mobius syringe in his other pocket and walked briskly down the steps, taking them two at a time. He knew that first voice; it was impossible to forget it, in fact. Surely nobody else in the universe had a voice quite as annoying as this man. “O’Neal!” Darius barked as he rounded the corner at a swift walk, ignoring Castellanos’ hand gesture to get back against the wall, “Put that fucking gun down before you shoot your _other_ little toe off, would you?”

Dead silence settled between the three, Castellanos still pressed against the back of the door frame, Darius standing directly in the doorway’s opening with one fist planted on his hip, and O’Neal, holding the pistol shakily in Darius’ direction, the back of his neck and his cheeks flushing red. Finally, he coughed, lowered the gun just slightly, and managed, “...Archer? What are you doing here?”

“Cleaning up Mobius’ trash, as usual.” Darius jerked his head at Castellanos, who cautiously entered the room behind Darius. “Guess my lessons didn’t really take as well as I thought they should’ve--you didn’t even take the fucking safety off.”

Now that it seemed the danger was past, Castellanos looked between them as Darius took the assault rifle over to the nearby workbench, ensuring its components weren’t caked with blood or anything equally as incompatible with a gun. “So,” Castellanos began, “you two know each other?”

Darius snorted. “Yeah, we’ve met.” As he began taking the rifle apart to check and clean its components, Darius continued, “I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to know every Mobius operative has to be certified in basic small-arms training, even if they don’t specialize in it. You have to earn your recertification once a year. I was already on desk duty at the time, for three months--got injured bad enough they couldn’t just toss me back into the field, and gave me the choice of an induced coma for recovery, or desk work. Like a fucking idiot, I picked desk work. Should’ve taken the coma.”

Something Darius omitted about that whole decision that wasn’t really a decision at all was the fact that being in Mobius hospitals was fucking terrifying on a good day, and that particular instance, being practically bedridden, at the mercy of the doctors who never told him a goddamned thing about what they were doing to him, had been one of the worst times of Darius’ life. Being comatose and in their care may as well have been a death sentence.

Even with his limited social graces, he had a feeling that wasn’t a part of the story anyone would laugh at, except maybe Castellanos, at Darius’ expense, and he wasn’t about to ruin the only time today he’d probably have cause to laugh at anything.

“Since I was already on desk duty, the Administrator decided for whatever fucking reason that _I_ was going to be the one to administer the annual recertif for the Krimson facility.” Jerking a thumb backwards at where he assumed O’Neal was, Darius huffed a dry laugh as he said, “Most everyone was easy. Even the ones who weren’t active field agents usually practiced enough on their own time to be passable. But O’Neal here,” Darius turned around and leaned against the workbench, arms folded across his chest, “was waving his fucking gun around like a hotshot showoff, probably trying to look cool in front of--”

“I wasn’t _showing off,_ ” O’Neal interrupted for the first time, face even redder than before, “I just...hadn’t done as much practicing. It wasn’t like I needed to--I’m a _tech_ , not a soldier.”

“And that fact was never more apparent than that recertif day.” Darius rolled his eyes. “Except maybe today. Hotshot over here didn’t have the safety on his pistol and shot his right little toe off. Guess I should be glad you learned how to turn it on, but the next step--and in my opinion, the more _important_ one--should be learning how to turn it _off_.”

“Now that we’re done with storytelling,” O’Neal huffed, “I think I need to know what you’re doing here, Archer. And you, whoever you are,” O’Neal nodded over at Castellanos, who opened his mouth, but Darius cut across it before he could speak.

“You need to know, do you?” Darius arched a brow. “Here’s all you need to know, O’Neal--Mobius decided they needed me alive more than they needed me dead after all. That’s Sebastian Castellanos,” Darius waved one hand in Castellanos’ direction, “and both of us have been sent in here to locate the Core.”

“Yeah? Good luck with that. I’m done.” O’Neal shook his head, taking his communicator out of his belt and setting it on the nearby table. “I’m just gonna hold out here until extraction. Dying in here is above my pay grade.”

Darius refrained from rolling his eyes, but only just. “Bold of you to fucking assume that Mobius _would_ extract us without the Core, even if they _could._ All of us are stuck here until we find it.”

“Her.” Castellanos corrected with a burning glare in Darius’ direction. “Until we find _her._ Can you help us or not?”

“If you’re talking about me going out there with you, you can forget about it--”

“Probably for the best--don’t want you shooting someone _else’s_ little toe off--”

“--but I think I can help you with the Core’s frequencies,” O’Neal finished with a pointed glare at Darius, who grinned. Reaching for his communicator, O’Neal continued, “We were tracking a signal when we got attacked. Listen to this.”

From the communicator, a weak voice, unmistakably a child’s, said _“Where...are you?”_

Darius didn’t recognize it, but Castellanos sure did, judging by the stricken expression on his face. “Can our communicators pick up the same signals?”

“Yeah, they should be able to. I even picked up a few others out there, a few other Mobius agents, that might help, if you wanted to follow up--”

“No way,” Castellanos interjected, already looking like nothing was going to stop him from running down the first signal he found, “the Core first.”

“Come on, I’m all alone down here,” O’Neal’s face twisted into a frustrated, almost petulant look that Darius was tempted to wipe right off, but resisted, “I could use some protection.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t let your last guard take the fall for you...” Castellanos shot back.

Darius scoffed and shook his head to hide the fact he was seeing red. “Fucking typical. Like a kid who broke his favorite toy and wants some new ones to throw around. You want protection? You have a fucking pistol. Guess you should’ve learned how to use it.” Snatching up the now-reassembled assault rifle, Darius stormed out of the only other door in the safe house, footsteps heavy on the wooden floor of the hallway until he reached another door, which he shouldered open, and found himself on Union’s streets.

He’d have fucking killed for a smoke right then.

It wasn’t that Darius honestly gave a fuck about the other Mobius agents out there--in general, in this line of work, it really was every man for himself most of the time, and anyone who couldn’t save themselves wasn’t cut out for Mobius anyway, by their own definition--but it was the sheer hypocrisy of it all that made his blood boil.

_Fucking O’Neal. Thinking Mobius’ll pull his ass out of the fire just because dying is above his fucking ‘pay grade’. Like Mobius gives a fuck about any of them except as lost resources._

It took longer than Darius wanted to admit for him to realize Castellanos had appeared next to him at some point, and he grunted in acknowledgement of the other man’s presence. “Are we ready to go, or what?”

Castellanos was silent, and Darius had an almost cast-iron feeling he was about to ask something that was only going to make Darius angrier. “You didn’t strike me as the type to care about other Mobius agents after you left them.”

All right, not a question, but it _did_ make him angrier.

“I don’t give a single, solitary, flying _fuck_ about the other Mobius agents in here,” Darius’ lip twisted in a snarl, hands tightening on where he held the assault rifle, “I just can’t fucking stand hypocrites. Now are we _going,_ or are we standing here playing twenty questions the rest of the fucking night?”

In response, Castellanos pulled out his communicator and began to tune it, Darius turning his gaze towards the stormy, overcast horizon, dark enough to be midnight if not for the street lamps that were somehow still active. It was quiet again, deceptively quiet, and Darius knew it wouldn’t last. Part of him craved it. Chaos was something he knew, after all.

In the haze of his earlier fury, Darius suddenly remembered there was one more thing he had to do before leaving O’Neal here.

“Fucking hell,” Darius made a show of checking his rifle, “I left my fucking tools on that bench.”

“I should have the signal by the time you get back,” Castellanos told him absently, brows knitted as he focused his gaze on the communicator in his hand.

Pushing the door open again and striding down the hall, Darius shoved the safe room door open before shutting it, and O’Neal’s gaze jerked up to meet his again, wary and guarded. “Archer?”

“Par for the course with Mobius, I’m sure, but I didn’t tell you everything you need to know,” Darius picked up a few tools from the bench and shoved them into his pockets to fulfill the lie he’d told Castellanos, “about what we’re doing here. We _are_ here to find the Core, and extract it. But Castellanos,” Darius waved his hand at the street beyond the safe house, “is a loose end. We need him, for now, but he’s not leaving this system alive.”

“And why are you telling me this? It’s not exactly my _job_ to assassinate people.”

Swallowing his renewed burst of anger, Darius said instead, “I’m _telling_ you because, even if you’re completely fucking useless in a fight, you’re still a Mobius asset, and this is still a Mobius mission. If I need you to do something to carry out that mission, you’ll do it. If _you_ want to get out of here alive, that is. We clear?”

O’Neal visibly swallowed. “I understand.”

“Good. Stay out of trouble while we’re gone, Liam.” Darius flashed a cold grin in O’Neal’s direction before slipping out of the safe house again, rejoining Castellanos on the street.

His expression was still focused, but his communicator was crackling with the sound of a signal, and with a brief chime, the static became a girl’s voice, the same one they’d heard on O’Neal’s communicator. “I think I’ve got it. Pretty far away, though.”

Pulling out his own communicator, Darius found a few more signals and logged them. “Much as I hate to follow up on one of O’Neal’s leads, some of the other Mobius agents here may have had some gear we can use. Some of it’s on our way.”

While he looked reluctant at the idea of stopping anywhere on the way when he knew his kid was somewhere out there, Castellanos nodded at last, and Darius internally let out a breath of combined frustration, relief, and a plea for fortitude.

“All right,” Darius holstered his communicator and rolled his shoulders, settling his grip on his rifle, “let’s move.”


	4. Gloaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief warning for mentions of past parental abuse in this chapter

_noun: twilight; dusk_

* * *

Nadia hadn’t thought being an unwitting hostage of a worldwide shadow organization could be so _boring._

She supposed it was better than the alternative--boring meant she wasn’t tossed in a prison cell, or tortured, or some other grisly thing Mobius was almost definitely capable of--but all the same, she’d been sitting in this computer chair, staring at Kidman’s monitor without comprehending a _single_ thing it said, feeling the eyes of that Administrator bastard on her from where he sat on his couch, for no less than two hours. It _had_ to be no less than two hours.

Checking her watch, the glowing blue digits helpfully informed her she’d been sitting in this chair for about thirty-seven minutes, and she’d spoken to Sebastian about twenty minutes ago. Fucking hell.

“So we just...wait?” Nadia’s was the only voice speaking in the open room, and it felt _wrong_ , like talking in a library _._ She half expected one of the other agents in the room to look up and glare at her with that same reproachful librarian stare, but they all stayed focused on their terminals.

“Unfortunately that’s all we can do from here,” Kidman looked up from her own terminal to respond, leaning back in her chair, “especially considering time flows a little... _differently_ in STEM.”

Nadia remembered Sebastian telling her it’d felt like he’d been in the Beacon system for hours at least, when really he’d only been plugged in for a little over half an hour in the real world. “So what, a whole week could already have passed in there?”

“That’s unlikely,” Kidman shook her head, “because we would’ve heard from them with much greater frequency, once a minute, probably. With the Core missing, time is probably even less stable, but it shouldn’t fluctuate that badly even in the worst-case scenario.”

“‘Shouldn’t’,” Nadia muttered under her breath. She really didn’t like that word. “Well, if we’ve got time to kill, we may as well talk.”

If Kidman had relaxed even a fraction of her guard before, it was back now, in full force. “What about?”

“Guess if I ask you anything about Mobius that’ll be an immediate conversation-ender, right?” Nadia leaned back in her chair as well and folded one leg over the other without waiting for a response to her rhetorical question. “Can I ask about _you_ , then?”

The guarded, wary look didn’t fade. “What about me?”

“I dunno, just the usual small-talk stuff, I guess.” Nadia hadn’t had to make conversation like this in a while, not since before Grace died, and it was obvious she was rustier at it than she’d thought. “You got hobbies? Interests? Friends?”

Somehow Nadia felt she’d only made things worse. The air between them turned almost physically chilly, and Nadia folded her arms over her stomach unconsciously. When Kidman spoke again, it was to ask, “What about you?”

“Unless day drinking counts as a hobby, I can’t say I’m much better.” It was only a half-joke, and it fell about as flat as Nadia expected it to. “You already know Sebastian and I are friends. We were friends when you were still at KCPD.”

“I remember.” Kidman paused. “Though I don’t remember you being so...”

 _Pathetic,_ Nadia’s brain supplied. Her mouth said, “Hostile,” instead, but didn’t feel like that was much better.

Kidman smiled, but it was empty of real humor. “One of the agents had to get stitches. The last time I remembered you, you were mostly coming into Sebastian’s office to nap on his couch.”

“Yeah, well,” Nadia tightened her arms where they were folded across her stomach, “things change. How many, by the way?”

“How many...?”

“How many stitches did your man have to get?”

“Eight, if I remember correctly,” Kidman arched a brow, “why?”

With a grin, Nadia leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up on an empty spot of the desk, ignoring the glare one of the suited security guards gave her. “New record, nice. I’ll be sure to rub that in Seabass’ face when he gets out of here.”

Kidman chewed her lip, as if debating whether to say something, then forged ahead. “I know you and Sebastian have little reason to trust us, and there’s no love lost between us, but--”

“It’s not just Mobius, Kidman.” Nadia flattened her grin into an expression of stern judgment. “It’s _you._ Sebastian trusted you, wanted to _help_ you. I still remember the day he told me that he and Joseph were going to be in charge of training a rookie. He was bitching and moaning about it, but I could see it--he hadn’t felt so passionate about his job in months before you came along. After Beacon? He stayed with me for the three years we’d been looking for you because he couldn’t stand to be alone, though I think _abandoned_ was probably a better word for it, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.”

“That’s not--” Kidman attempted to interrupt, but Nadia was having none of it. She was not, by her nature, an angry person, but she still had plenty to say now that she had the chance. Even if Kidman didn’t feel guilty, even if she didn’t feel a damn thing, Nadia still had to say it.

“The whole situation at Beacon fucked him up, don’t get me wrong, but being left behind again? Being alone? That was one of the things he took the worst. You went back to your happy little life here in Mobius, having successfully shattered whatever was left of _Sebastian’s_ happiness.” Turning in her chair to face to STEM room, Nadia didn’t spare Kidman her glance as she finished, “Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Tense silence sat between them for a long moment before Kidman spoke again, quietly. “I never wanted any of what happened to Sebastian to happen. It was out of my hands. When I was sent on the Beacon mission...” Kidman shook her head, almost to herself, “...Mobius told me I’d be going in with them, but they were expendable. Their words,” Kidman added when Nadia bristled, “not mine. Beacon, STEM...they changed something. I went in ready to carry out my duty and do whatever needed to be done, but, in the end...it wasn’t right.”

Nadia let the statement sit before crossing her ankles a different direction and scoffing under her breath. “I’m sure that’s real comforting to Sebastian after he spent three years waking up in a cold sweat almost every night and not being sure if he was in the real world or not. Hell of a time to suddenly have a crisis of conscience.”

“What do you want me to say, Nadia?” Kidman’s exasperated rush of breath accompanied her turning away from her computer to face Nadia head-on. “I can’t change what happened at Beacon. All I can do is try to help now.”

As much as Nadia hated to admit it, Kidman _did_ have a point. “Yeah, all right. Guess that’s fair.”

After another beat of silence, Kidman spoke again, “I hope Sebastian knows how lucky he is to have a friend like you in his corner.”

It was unexpected, to say the least, and Kidman was the last person Nadia had expected to hear such a thing from. She took a minute to process the words before sucking in a deep breath and letting part of it out in a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m sure he could do better, but he’s stuck with me now.”

“How did you meet him?” Kidman turned back to her terminal, typing something, but her head was tilted in Nadia’s direction.

She was at least three percent sure this was just Kidman’s way of keeping her entertained, but Nadia couldn’t really give a damn at this point. “Some shitty watering hole in Krimson--I don’t even remember the name of it anymore. We were both sitting at the bar, having our drinks, when a fight broke out at the other end of the bar, and we just looked at them, then he turned and looked at me--probably accidental, or a reflex--and I just shrugged. I think we were in mutual agreement that those assholes needed to clear out and let us be miserable in peace.”

“You didn’t say anything? It was just complete silence?”

“If you think _that’s_ hilarious, listen to this: we didn’t actually speak a word out loud to each other for the first three months we were friends.” Nadia crossed her ankles a different way atop the desk, stretching her back. “We swapped numbers the first day, but all our exchanges were by text. I don’t think either of us was really looking for a _friend_ yet, but we could tolerate each other’s company and just wanted to be left to drink in peace.”

“When was the first time you actually spoke to one another?” Kidman leaned back from her desk again, a faintly amused look in the creases of her eyes.

“We were meeting up at some other bar after Sebastian got off-shift, and I got there first--didn’t really have anything else to do.” Nadia’s lip quirked up into a faint smile as she remembered the day, even years ago now. “I was making small talk with the waitress, flirting a little bit, she was flirting back--casual stuff. Guess a few of the punks at that bar felt threatened by me, or maybe they fancied that waitress, or some combo of the two, but they threw the first punch.

“Now, as I’m sure you’ve probably noticed by now,” Nadia continued dryly, “I’m not exactly the fighting type. Bar brawls are about the extent of my experience, as well as some basic self-defense, but not really the kind of training that would let me stand up to three guys at once. Sebastian shows up out of nowhere and just fucking decks one of the guys right off the bat. He goes down, I deal with one of the other ones, and the last one books it before either of us could get our hands on him. Sebastian looks down at the guy he knocked out cold, looking pissed as hell but also just kind of annoyed, and he looks up at me and says ‘I need a fucking drink’. I told him he was in luck, because the first round was on me for the heroic rescue. Guess that was the day we went from ‘drinking buddies’ to ‘friends’, because we started actually talking after that.”

“Ever think you’d end up in a situation like this?” Kidman waved a hand out to the STEM room, and the rest of the Mobius facility beyond, a joking undertone in the question.

“Fuck no.” Nadia rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure no one _expects_ to end up in situations like this, Kidman. Weirdly enough, though, I don’t really regret it. Not like I was doing much else with my life anyway.”

Kidman opened her mouth to respond, but her screen suddenly began to flash red, and she whipped back around to the terminal, typing a mile a minute. “Dammit.”

“What?” Nadia looked around the room when no one offered an immediate explanation of what was happening. “What is it?”

“Archer’s vitals just spiked.” Kidman tapped her earpiece with one hand, a grim set to her jaw. “Archer? Archer! Can you hear me?”

A harsh screech of static was the only response given, both in the speakers within the room as well as the earpiece Kidman wore, and she winced, yanking the earpiece out of her ear and holding it out like something gross was on it. Nadia stared it at; she could hear the sound of the static even from here. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.” Kidman gingerly replaced the earpiece and tapped it again as the static faded. “Archer, do you read me?”

“Agent Kidman?” One of the other agents across the room spoke up. “Just before Archer’s vitals spiked, we detected an unusual signal. I’ll forward it to your terminal.”

A few seconds later, a new screen popped up on Kidman’s terminal, and Nadia instinctively shifted closer to see it even if she knew she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of understanding what the fuck it meant. Kidman, however, obviously knew _something_ \--her jaw set even tighter, her lips turning into an even thinner line. “Do you recognize it?”

“Maybe.” Kidman released a breath. “If it is what I think it is, Archer might already be lost. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

More waiting. Nadia suppressed a groan. More _fucking_ waiting.

* * *

To use Archer’s words, Union was definitely too quiet.

It had that homey small-town ambiance that vaguely reminded Sebastian of Elk Creek, but with more organization. Elk Creek was a back-country small town that had slowly and haphazardly expanded as more and more people came to work at Krimson, a veritable bedroom community with its own rustic appeal. Union felt similar, but there was an eerie, cold feeling about the town that Sebastian couldn’t shake. Like walking into a haunted house, except the monsters here were very real.

Archer was silent as they walked, checking corners every time they approached one, sticking to Sebastian’s right. He could only make a few assumptions about the ex-agent so far--few of them good--but one was that he had to be ex-military, or at least had military training. Asking, he had a feeling, would earn him nothing, and while the town _appeared_ quiet now, there was no telling what lurked around the next building, hidden within the next alley. Questions would have to wait.

Peering around the edge of the alley they’d slunk through rather than take the open street, Archer held up one hand. “There’s a whole mess of ‘em out there. Stick your head out to look. Quietly.”

Biting back the automatic retort that he knew what he was doing, Sebastian leaned around the same corner and witnessed the same thing as Archer. In the center of what had once been a street intersection, there were a little over a half-dozen of the creatures they’d seen so far, some ravaging nearby corpses, some wandering, there were even a few holding lit Molotov cocktails.

“Too many to take head-on,” Sebastian declared after a moment’s observation.

“Yeah. One of the resonances is over there,” Archer used his rifle to gesture at the nearby grocery store, “but there’s another one in the neighborhood down here. Looks clear enough, and it’s more in the direction we’re going anyway.”

“Then let’s head into the neighborhood.” Sebastian withdrew from the grisly scene, backtracking through the alley with Archer at his right. “Why do you do that?”

“Gonna have to be a bit more specific, Castellanos.”

“Every time I turn, you’re at my right. Like my damn shadow, or something.”

Archer lifted and dropped his shoulders in a vague shrug as they walked. “You’re used to having someone at your right. I can tell in your movements and how you go into a fight. I can work with either, so I figure the best chance at keeping us alive is watching whatever side you’re used to having watched.”

The last time anyone had watched his right in a situation like this, it had been Joseph. He tried not to think of Joseph too much these days, because it would send him down a grief and guilt spiral that was always a bitch to get out of, but this time the thought was unshakable. Archer wasn’t Joseph, wasn’t even remotely as trustworthy, and the parallel situation made Sebastian curl his lip, but he bit it against a biting remark. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight right now, in the middle of what was essentially hostile territory.

Instead, Sebastian was silent, but Archer didn’t seem to be expecting a reply, and so they continued as they were. It gave Sebastian a chance to observe Archer with a little more depth.

He was tall, taller than Sebastian by maybe an inch or two, but bulkier in stature, built almost like a tank. He was a little unkempt in the scruffiness of his stubble and the length of his hair, brushing the back of his neck in dark curls, but if what Kidman had said was true, he’d been on the run from Mobius for over three years, so it made some sense. He was also obviously familiar with a wide array of weapons, and the alertness of his gaze said his guard was still obviously raised even if his grip on the rifle was easy, almost casual.

“Take a picture,” Archer said suddenly as he swung his flashlight over to a nearby yard, “it’ll last longer.”

“You probably already know just about everything about me,” Sebastian pointed out as he automatically turned his back to Archer’s to check the yard across from the one Archer checked, “so I feel like a little observation is in order.”

“I wouldn’t say I know _everything,”_ Archer rolled his whole head as they continued to walk, “just that you used to be a detective and you survived the Beacon incident. And you have a daughter.”

“And all I know about you is that you used to be Mobius, but now you’re not.” Sebastian countered. “I’d say you’re still at a bit of an advantage.”

“Don’t expect my life story or anything. I was Mobius, and now I’m not, just like you said--that’s all you need to know.”

“What about who you were _before_ Mobius?”

Archer stopped suddenly, and Sebastian turned to see Archer regarding him with a slightly raised brow. “Guess you wouldn’t know, but it’s kind of taboo in Mobius to talk about what you were _before_ Mobius. They really try their best to erase every part of your life that wasn’t involved with them, make it seem like you never really belonged anywhere _except_ with them. Lot of people get sucked in that way. Myself included.”

Sebastian was on the verge of asking for more details--it was more than he’d expected to get out of Archer, and maybe if he _was_ as chatty as Sebastian had complained about earlier, he might actually get something useful out of it--but Archer picked up his pace again, and Sebastian had to walk slightly faster to keep up. The topic was closed, for now, but Sebastian didn’t plan to let it go that easily.

“Our resonance should be in that house.” Archer pointed towards one of the homes on the street. “Looks different than the Mobius resonances we’ve seen so far, different from the Core’s resonance, too--”

 _“Lily’s_ resonance.”

Archer’s glare was baleful. “You want to argue semantics, save it for when we’re out of STEM. Actually, better idea, let’s not and say we did. We going or what?”

Abruptly turning his shoulder away from Sebastian, Archer strode briskly towards the house in question, apparently not in the mood to wait for Sebastian’s response. Sebastian wasn’t in much better spirits--Archer was abrasive at best, callous at worst, and while he had stayed pragmatic throughout the mission so far, their methods and approaches clashed, almost violently with how starkly they contrasted.

He didn’t give a damn about Lily, no matter how much Sebastian corrected him. It bothered him--made him think that Archer didn’t even _see_ Lily as a person, with hopes and dreams and a life that had been taken from her, but a resource. An _objective._

 _“Castellanos!”_ Archer belted out from just down the road, where he stood, irritably tapping his finger against the stock of his rifle, “Hurry the fuck up, will you?”

Sebastian made sure his glare to Archer was filled with the appropriate annoyance, but Archer was unfazed, giving as good as he got. He knew Archer wouldn’t care, he knew it wouldn’t make a damn difference, but-- “Would it kill you to acknowledge Lily is a person?”

Archer was looking at Sebastian like he’d lost his mind. “The fuck are you talking about? I _know_ she’s a person, Castellanos. Core candidates don’t just appear from thin air.”

“That’s what I mean.” Forced out through his teeth, Sebastian resisted the rising urge to jab a finger into Archer’s chest. “‘The Core’ this, ‘Core candidate’ that--”

“You must have missed the memo where I said we’re never going to be friends, huh?” Archer’s lip twisted down, and he dropped the arm holding his rifle so the barrel was pointed at the ground. He pointed his own finger in Sebastian’s direction but didn’t touch him, keeping far enough away not to threaten, but close enough to antagonize. “She’s your daughter. I get that. It’s your family at stake. I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t have the same emotional attachment to the situation. Recovering her _is,_ however, a critical step in making sure I survive long enough to get out of this fucking STEM system, which is a pretty important step to figuring out what to do after that. Getting on my ass about trying to assign an emotional attachment to this situation that isn’t there won’t change anything.”

“It’s not even an emotional attachment--it’s her fucking _name.”_

“And that’s important to you. But you’re gonna have to learn to accept that--” Archer suddenly broke off, narrowing his eyes at a point over Sebastian’s shoulder. “...The fuck?”

“What?” Anger briefly derailed by the confusion he could see on Archer’s face, Sebastian turned over his shoulder, but saw nothing out of the ordinarily--relatively speaking, at least. “What is it?”

For the first time in their short partnership, Sebastian saw Archer’s face shift into something uncertain and tentative, with a grim set to his jaw, before he shook his head, a crack in the callous and brisk demeanor. “Nothing. I thought--it was nothing. Just this fucking place playing tricks on me.” Motions jerkier than they’d been before, Archer shouldered his rifle again, and if Sebastian hadn’t known better, he’d say Archer looked _shaken._ “Let’s just go.”

Entering the house where they’d tracked the unknown resonance sent an odd chill down Sebastian’s spine--and in a place like STEM, where odd was the norm, even this stood out. Uneasiness fluttered through his chest, and the sound of something clattering to the floor had Sebastian jerking his pistol free of its holster, aiming it--

\--at Archer, who was looking at him with one brow raised, a first aid box at his feet, apparently fallen from the nearby shelf. “Mind pointing that somewhere else? I get the temptation, believe me, but you do still need me for this mission. Alive, preferably.”

And there was the typical swagger Sebastian had already come to associate with Archer. Self-deprecating, but delivered with a confidence that contrasted against it. Releasing a breath, Sebastian’s gun arm went slack. “Something about this place doesn’t feel right.”

By now, Sebastian was half expecting a dry retort of _you mean this house, or STEM?_ but instead Archer just grunted in vague agreement. “Yeah, I feel it too.”

Sebastian couldn’t decide if that was gratifying or worrying.

Once Archer had salvaged everything he wanted from the first aid kit, they moved almost by unspoken agreement to the back of the house, to what looked like a bedroom at the end of the hall. Within were two empty twin-size beds, and a table with a journal on it.

Picking it up, Sebastian read aloud, “‘There’s something in this house with me. I can’t see it, but I sense its presence’.” Dread began to churn in Sebastian’s stomach with even greater intensity, and he skimmed the page and read from the bottom, “...‘I’m shivering, but it’s not from fear. Why did it...get so cold all of a sudden’...” Trailing off, Sebastian realized he could _see_ his breath in the air, and his body was gripped by a wracking chill.

Ripping the journal out of Sebastian’s hands, Archer grabbed his shoulder with one hand and turned them both around; Sebastian couldn’t even be bothered to protest when Archer said, his breath fogging the air just like Sebastian’s, “Good enough reason to get the fuck out of here. Whatever they saw, I don’t want to meet it.”

Shaking his shoulder free of Archer’s grip, Sebastian picked up his pace, and Archer matched it, but when they reached the living room, the space around them faded into a blue hue, matching the chill in the air. Almost of its own will, the couch in the living room began to _float_ , before it flew with a crash into the wall, blocking the door.

Without missing a beat, Archer turned to the nearest window and began bashing his rifle’s stock into it, but it refused to give. “What the _fuck?”_ He muttered, and as the chill reached a point where it was almost burning, Sebastian turned slowly back to the hallway, to the sound of faint, nonsensical singing.

To say that he was looking at a woman was probably technically incorrect, but it was near enough. Different from the woman with the saw, this one was adorned in rags that floated about her form, weightless, along with her long locks of black hair. Whatever she drifted near flickered with static, almost as if she disrupted the artificial environment with her very presence. She drifted slowly down the hallway, humming her song, and Sebastian wanted to reach for a weapon, wanted to reach for _something,_ but he was frozen in place.

In a haunting approximation of a sing-song voice, the woman hissed, _“Darius...”_ as she drifted ever closer.

“Did it just fucking say my _name?”_ Archer demanded through the pounding in Sebastian’s ears as his heart raced.

In a rush, faster than either of them could react, the woman closed the distance between them with a harsh, screeching cackle, and flung them both backwards. Sebastian felt his back hit a wall, closing his eyes against the impact, but when he opened them again, they weren’t in the quiet, homey Union neighborhood.

It looked like some kind of military facility, sterile and austere. He was in a hallway that stretched infinitely back the way they came, deepening into shadow, and in the other direction was a door. Glancing down, Sebastian found Archer, but he, too, looked different. Instead of the black button-down shirt, jeans, and boots he’d been wearing in the STEM room and in the environment of Union, he was in a plain t-shirt, with a different pair of jeans and boots, his hair was shorter, without the bit of gray at his temples, but most concerning was the presence of dried blood on his lip and temple and cheek.

With a groan, Archer raised his head, still on all fours from their landing, and reached up to rub his face with one hand, freezing stock-still as soon as his fingers made contact. Slowly pulling his hand away, Sebastian saw shock, horror, and a bone-deep _terror_ flicker across Archer’s face before his usual scowl returned, so fast Sebastian almost thought he’d imagined it. Launching to his feet, he cast his gaze around, but Sebastian didn’t think it would be wise to ask what he was looking for at the moment.

“What the fuck, what the _fuck,_ ” Archer muttered, beginning to pace, “what the actual _fuck_ \--”

From behind them, Sebastian heard the same sound of singing that had announced the ghost woman’s arrival, and stepped forward to seize Archer’s upper arm, dragging them both in the direction of the door, the only possible escape point. Wrenching his arm free and shaking his head, Archer lengthened his stride and forced Sebastian to do the same to keep up. Shouldering the door open, they found themselves in a circular room with three branching hallways. With confidence, Archer took the one on the right.

“Where are we?” Sebastian asked under his breath when it seemed like they’d lost the ghost woman, even if only for a moment. “Seems like you know your way around.”

Archer worked his jaw for a beat before replying, “A Mobius facility. I’ve been here before.” Stopping at a secure door near the middle of the hall, Archer held out his hand to stop them. “Wait here.” Patting his pockets, he produced what looked like a keycard or ID from one of them, regarding it with a disbelieving look before shaking his head and muttering, “Fucking weird...” before swiping it; the door lock chimed, the light switching from red to green.

Within the door’s window, Sebastian saw what looked like some kind of laboratory, with various metal tables, computers, and medical tools scattered on every available surface. There was also what looked like another person inside, but their features were indistinct, their body almost formless and ghostly. Every time Sebastian tried to focus on them, to make out some details, his head began to hurt, vision blurring until he was forced to look away with a wince.

Sometime during his observation, Archer had eased the secure door open, slipping silently across the floor towards the other person in the room. Launching up with both arms, Archer wrapped one around the man’s neck, his other hand clapping over his mouth and nose. As soon as Archer laid his hands on the person, his shifting features abruptly coalesced into that of a solid, coherent person, face full of shock and terror.

Archer tightened his arm, and Sebastian’s stomach dropped into his feet as the person’s neck snapped with an audible, sickening _pop_. His face went blank, and Archer lowered the body to the ground, reaching into his coat and retrieving a pistol. Checking its magazine and chamber, Archer rejoined Sebastian in the hallway, gaze almost distant, absent.

Tentatively reaching out one hand, Sebastian was millimeters from making contact with Archer’s shoulder when his blue eyes abruptly refocused, and in that moment Archer was the very image of a caged animal, eyes wild and shoulders tensed, fight-or-flight strongly leaning towards the former. Sebastian didn’t know where they were, didn’t know what they were seeing, but whatever it was, it had stripped Archer of his usual confidence and brash, swaggering composure, and left something far more base and primal in its place.

“Where do we go?” Was all Sebastian asked in the end, more than aware that the ghost woman was probably still in here with them, somewhere.

Silently, Archer jerked his head towards the T-intersection of hallways ahead, pistol in hand. The sound of singing reached them, but Sebastian couldn’t tell whether it was coming from behind them, or ahead. Archer, too, seemed torn, as he stopped halfway towards the intersection of hallways, hesitating, before continuing forward.

At the intersection, Archer paused to aim his pistol around both directions before slowly moving down the right hallway. There was a charged feeling to the air, like static, that reminded Sebastian of how it felt to be in the ghost woman’s proximity. Opening his mouth to warn Archer that she might be nearby, the double doors at the end of the hall slammed open, revealing the woman’s floating, spectral form, distortions flickering around her.

Her screeching laugh gripped Sebastian’s heart in an ice-cold vise grip, and almost without thinking, he turned and bolted the other direction down the hall, only half aware that Archer had apparently turned and run as soon as the doors had opened. Just ahead, there was another set of double doors, and Archer reached them first, slamming into them with one shoulder, pushing them open--

\--and both of them landed on the floor of the Union house’s living room.

Nothing was out of place, or at least, no more out of place than it’d been when they’d first arrived. Even the couch was back in its original spot, instead of flung against the door. There was a brush of air at his side, and Sebastian looked up in time to see Archer standing abruptly and beginning to pace, noticeably jumping when his communicator began to ring. Jerking it free of its holder, he tossed it onto the couch and shoved the front door open, disappearing into the house’s front yard.

Torn between following Archer, who was probably not in the best place to defend himself at the moment, and picking up the communicator, Sebastian reasoned that, based on their prior interactions, Archer wouldn’t welcome Sebastian trying to help him at the moment, anyway. Instead, he reached down and picked up Archer’s communicator, answering it. “Kidman?”

“Sebastian? Where’s Archer? Is he...?” Kidman didn’t finish the question, but he got what she meant to ask easily enough.

“He’s alive,” Sebastian finally said, figuring that was about as good as Archer probably felt at the moment.

“Is he all right?”

“That might be a bit of a stretch. Why?”

“His vitals suddenly spiked--like he was about to go into cardiac arrest. What happened?”

“We saw...something.” Sebastian heard the sound of breaking glass, and the gurgle of someone choking on blood, but when he stuck his head out of the house’s front door, all he saw was Archer slamming his boot down onto one of the transformed Union citizen’s throats, holding the top half of a shattered glass bottle in one hand. Launching a fist into another’s face, he yanked his knife free of its sheath, sinking it into the creature’s chest, shoving it away. “It was like a ghost of some kind, and she...I think she dropped us into one of Archer’s memories. He said it was a Mobius facility, and he’d been there before, and he looked different. Younger.”

He could almost feel Kidman mulling it over from the other side of the communicator. “That’s troubling, to say the least. Did the ghost try to communicate at all?”

“It said Archer’s name.” He remembered that very clearly, and the first flash of fear on Archer’s face upon hearing it. “I think some of the Union citizens might have been seeing it, too--we found a journal in one of the houses that mentioned it.”

“Let me know if you encounter it again. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do from out here, but the more we find out about it--”

“Yeah, I get it.” Glancing out at the street again, Sebastian saw Archer surrounded by at least four bloody corpses, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “We’ll keep moving. I’ll let you know if we find anything else.”

“Sounds good. Be careful, Sebastian.” With a burst of static, Kidman’s line disconnected, and Sebastian released a breath before pushing the door open.

Archer didn’t look up when Sebastian approached, still trying to catch his breath. The logic of Archer continuing to rebuff Sebastian’s attempts to help clashed with the almost instinctive urge to check on others, and ultimately the latter won out. “Archer...are you--”

“If you finish saying,” Archer panted, “what I think you’re going to say, I’ll punch you in the goddamn throat.”

Well, it had been worth a try. “Can I ask you about where we were?”

Archer finally looked up to fix Sebastian with a withering glare. _"Fuck_ no. In fact, new rule: don’t ask about me, period. I’m not one of your criminal suspects and I don’t give a fuck about your curiosity.” Rocking back to a standing position, Archer snatched his communicator out of Sebastian’s outstretched hand, slipping it back into its holder. “Let’s go. The Core’s resonance isn’t far now.”

Torn between correcting Archer once again and dropping the issue in favor of following, Sebastian reluctantly chose the latter.

* * *

A long time ago, back when he’d been way more cavalier about referring to his past, if Darius had been asked whether he still got scared, he’d have joked that the fear had been beaten out of him before he’d hit puberty, and showed no signs of coming back.

Decades later, he recognized the sentiment for the stupid bravado it was, but it had been replaced by the knowledge that, with nothing much to live for, fear was pretty pointless. He didn’t have anything to lose, didn’t even care enough about his life individually to count it among the valued things most people would be afraid of losing. He’d been fairly sure that hadn’t changed much in his three and a half years or so on the run, but today he’d just gotten a swift kick in the ass to convince him otherwise.

He remembered that day, of course--it was one of the worst days of his life. His memories of it, however, had always been fragmented things, snapshots of specific moments. Still terrifying to see in his dreams, to remember in the dead of night when sleep wouldn’t reach him at all, but easier to manage in bite-sized chunks.

This experience, though, had awakened a visceral terror Darius hadn’t thought himself capable of feeling anymore.

In the back of his mind, he was aware he’d probably been feeling it just as strongly on the day itself, but he’d been so fucking numb to anything that wasn’t the bone-deep urge to _move_ , to _fight_ , to save something-- _someone_ \--who’d already been lost that he hadn’t acknowledged it. On that day, he had been the cold, efficient weapon Mobius had forged him into, aimed at the people who’d forged him in the first place. Today he’d been something else. He’d still been that weapon, he wasn’t capable of being anything else, but it hadn’t been numbness that drove him on: it had been a simultaneously fiery and icy feeling that gripped his chest like chains, tightening with every step.

It was a sense of helplessness. Knowing that even if he fought, even if he followed his past self’s footsteps exactly, he would never be able to change the outcome.

He’d emerged from that perfect reconstruction of one of the worst days of his life, into that idyllic living room, and felt nothing but fear, poorly disguised as rage. He’d needed to get his hands on something, had needed to regain _some_ control of the situation, and with the power he apparently had in this system, he probably could have done something grand and momentous and maybe even literally earth-shattering, but even in his fear-fueled haze he recognized that would leave a lot of questions from Castellanos he’d probably have to answer, and that kind of reaction wasn’t his thing, anyway. Ruben’s, maybe, but not his.

Darius had always felt the best when he could seize control back with his own two hands, and so that was exactly what he’d done.

Even in the midst of his rampage, he knew Castellanos was probably updating Kidman on Darius’ discarded communicator, but couldn’t make out the words through the roaring in his ears. Castellanos’ feet had emerged in his line of sight, staring down at the bloody pavement, and Darius had a handful of occasions where he’d felt pretty pathetic over the course of his forty-four years of life, but this moment ranked as one of the top five, only made worse by Castellanos trying to offer his fucking _pity_.

Darius made no attempt at conversation as they walked, and fortunately, Castellanos didn’t either. They dispatched the creatures wandering Union by rote, with guns and Darius’ knife and a hand axe Castellanos appropriated from one of the creatures. The brunt of Darius’ rage had been spent on the poor bastards who’d gotten in his way as soon as he’d walked out of that house, but he still had plenty to spare. He was just able to keep it under better control now.

Which was good, because Castellanos reacted about as Darius expected he would as soon as they got within communicator range of more Core signals, and if he wasn’t already emotionally exhausted by the whole ordeal thus far, he suspected he would’ve snapped by now.

The trail led them to a trucking warehouse, infested with the transformed citizens they’d already encountered. Splitting up to maintain some element of stealth, Darius took the lead with his knife and cleared a path to the warehouse’s door, only to find it locked, the panel used to power it shut down. As he watched, the light changed from red to green, and he looked over his shoulder to find Castellanos emerging from a fenced-off area, throwing him a thumbs-up as he went.

Pulling the lever without comment, they entered the warehouse, and a scream pierced the air--the scream of a young girl.

Castellanos froze for a split second before taking off like a shot, and Darius swore under his breath before pursuing. “Castellanos, fucking wait a minute--we don’t know if it’s a trap or bait or _what_ \--”

“It’s my _fucking daughter!”_ Castellanos wheeled on him, his measure of patience apparently reaching the end of its tether. “And if you’re not going to fucking help me _find her_ , then get the fuck out of my way!”

The words knocked the wind out of Darius in a way he hadn’t expected. He didn’t know if it was the recently ripped-open wound of being forced to relive one of the worst days of his life or something else, but it reminded him of--

_All right, no need to lose your last shreds of dignity all over again, Archer. Stay objective._

But, Darius had hardly been _objective_ on that day in the Mobius facility nearly three and a half years ago. He had been driven solely by his emotions, by something _he_ wanted--no, _needed._ He didn’t really give a fuck about Castellanos or his kid, not when their fate was still so up in the air depending on how things went, but he wouldn’t stoop to being considered a hypocrite.

They’d have to have that conversation later, though, because Castellanos had already taken off at a dead sprint, and Darius was forced to devote all his attention to keeping up and watching out for obvious traps or ambushes. One of the transformed citizens burst through a stack of empty crates, careening towards them, and Darius let off a quick burst of rifle rounds to destroy it before Castellanos closed distance.

Reaching a ladder, Castellanos was up first, and Darius swept the floor with his rifle and flashlight once more before following. Across the metal walkway, they reached a series of empty rooms, one with a workbench, and another with a wide pool of blood on the floor...within which lay another doll like one Castellanos had found at the first resonance.

It was a tableau almost _too_ in line with another pool of blood that was far too close to home in Darius’ memory, and with effort, he shoved it away...even with the knowledge of what he _thought_ he’d seen over Castellanos’ shoulder earlier haunting the thoughts in the back of his mind, a face twenty-seven years dead, but one Darius could still conjure up in his nightmares far more easily than his waking hours.

“Oh my god,” Castellanos whispered, holding the doll in his hands, eyes distant, almost like he was in a trance. Snapping out of it, he looked at Darius with an expression of abject horror on his face. “That bastard with the camera has Lily.”

 _Well, fuck._ “Of course he does,” Darius muttered, rubbing his face in one hand, “because nothing could be easy.”

“I’m not getting any more signals on my communicator,” Castellanos pulled out the communicator in question and began fiddling with the dials, “what about yours?”

“No, nothing.” Darius twisted his lip. “If we’ve hit a dead end here, we need another angle.”

“What about O’Neal?”

“What makes you think Nine-Toes McGee is going to be able to help us?”

“You have a better idea?”

The problem was, he didn’t. “Fine, let’s see what he has to say.”

In unison, however, as soon as Darius moved to dial O’Neal’s frequency and Castellanos prepared to put his communicator away, both devices squealed with feedback...and then began playing music. Classical? It almost sounded...familiar.

“That song...” Castellanos’ brow tightened, and a thoughtful silence drifted between them until they both descended the ladder to ground floor.

In what had to be the briefest moment of clarity between the pair of them that’d happened so far, Darius locked eyes with Castellanos as they seemed to reach the same conclusion at the same time. “That’s the same music that was playing with the fucking... _artwork_ or whatever the fuck. In the studio.”

“He’s here,” Castellanos breathed, then turned to sprint back towards the warehouse’s entrance.

 _God-fucking-dammit._ Darius had determined already that it would, in fact, be hypocritical of him to expect Castellanos to keep his cool, but that still left Darius with the thankless task of keeping them _both_ alive long enough to at least get closer to their objective.

As soon as they rounded a shelving section and the camera bastard appeared in a blue flash several meters ahead of them, Darius saw Castellanos tensing like he was about to fucking _throw_ himself at the fucker, and Darius drew the line.

Overtaking Castellanos enough to get some leverage, Darius lunged forward and grabbed Castellanos by his weapon harness, effectively clotheslining him from behind. It sent both of them sprawling, but Castellanos was already on his feet, throwing Darius a fiery glare before moving again, this time at a much more reasonable speed.

As they walked, or crept, really, Darius hissed, “You’re aware he could be fucking baiting us, right? And that we stand exactly zero chance of killing him if he _is_ using the Core’s power?”

“So we do nothing?” Castellanos shot back; they were almost at the warehouse’s door, and Darius shouldered his rifle in preparation for a fight despite his perfectly reasonable statement that it would probably be useless. “I’m going out there with or without you.”

And Castellanos proceeded to do just that.

Swearing under his breath, Darius followed, and saw their target perched atop an overturned tractor-trailer. Darius raised his rifle to aim down the sights, but not before Castellanos belted out, “Hey! You! The girl--where is she?”

_Subtlety, thy name is not Sebastian Castellanos._

Predictably, the man was not at all fazed by Castellanos’ question, and turned halfway around to regard them before disappearing, and something else began to appear in the sky--it took Darius a long, long moment to identify it as some kind of _camera lens_ , but also an eye.

In the time it took Darius to recognize the increasing amounts of weird shit this world was apparently determined to throw at him, he realized the camera-eye-whatever the fuck it was had just conjured _more_ of those transformed monsters, the ones with extra heads that traveled on all fours. Castellanos, for his part, was apparently taking a page from Darius’ book--he had plenty of high-energy emotions to work out, and he’d just been given the perfect outlet to do so.

When all that remained of the ambush was blood and corpses, Castellanos made to leave the truck yard, pistol in hand and a stony determination painted across his features. Darius reached out with one hand and began, “Look, can we at least stop to come up with a--”

“We’re not stopping.” Castellanos snapped, rounding on Darius fast enough that Darius had to plant his feet to avoid running directly into him. “If _you_ hadn’t stopped me inside that warehouse, we might’ve gotten to her before that bastard with the camera took her back.”

There was only so much bullshit Darius was willing to deal with in one day, in one mission, and this crossed some very fine, indefinable line. “That so? Could’ve sworn I didn’t stop you until _after_ we heard her scream, after I rightfully pointed out it could’ve been a trap--”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t give a damn about me or my family,” Castellanos’ voice dropped an octave, in what Darius assumed was supposed to be some kind of no-nonsense detective voice, but it was wasted on Darius, “so I don’t expect you to get it, but I’m doing this with or without you, and if you get in my way, I’ll _remove_ you.”

Silence sat for a long beat, and Darius finally let out his breath in a great rush. _Guess we’re talking about this now._

“All right.” Darius finally said, and patted himself on the back for not even raising his voice.

It earned him the satisfaction of seeing the wind taken out of Castellanos’ sails. “‘All right’?” He echoed disbelievingly. “What does that even mean? ‘All right, I’ll help you’, or ‘All right, I’ll get the fuck out of your way’?”

“It means,” Darius slung his rifle over his shoulder and folded his arms, “what I’ve said from the fucking _beginning,_ thanks very much--I _am_ here to help, even if my reasons aren’t the same as yours. It’s because of those reasons I can keep a clearer head.”

“A clearer head,” Castellanos muttered under his breath, “is that what you call it?”

Darius had been sure the worst of his rage had been burned out from his earlier rampage, but no, it was still there, just waiting to be stoked to life again. “Yeah, a clearer head, because I know the fucking consequences of walking into a situation like this without one.”

He’d revealed too much. He knew it as soon as the corners of Castellanos’ eyes pinched in a thoughtful expression. “Those consequences wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with what that ghost woman showed us, would it?”

“Thin fucking ice, Castellanos,” Darius warned, arms tightening where they were folded across his chest. He knew it was a defensive gesture, a protective one, but it was a concession he’d have to make if he wanted to attempt talking this through. It wasn’t exactly one of his strengths. “You don’t need to know the details, I don’t even really _want_ to tell you this much, but if it helps get this idea through your thick fucking head--I haven’t been exactly where you are, but close enough.” Pressing his mouth into a grim line, Darius closed his eyes for a beat as the same visceral terror from earlier, from the vision, gripped him, before relenting. “If I’d gone in with a clear head instead of reacting because of my emotions, things might’ve turned out differently. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I think you’re just telling me what you think I need to hear to keep me on the mission, but here’s the thing--I already _know_ the mission. _You_ seem to be the one getting in my way--”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Castellanos?” Darius unfolded his arms to throw his hands up in an exasperated gesture. He felt raw, and the idea of saying anything more than he’d already revealed felt a lot like surrender, but it was becoming clear they could not continue like this. Even if Castellanos was eventually going on the chopping block too, Darius needed him alive long enough to at least get closer to their objective, and he sure wasn’t making it easy. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, and you’re not really making a good case for changing that. You’d rather stick to your assumptions and your preconceived judgments. We’re not going to be friends, I think I’ve made that pretty damn clear--and so have you--but we do have to fucking work together. Act like it.”

Castellanos wore a blank expression, and Darius felt it mocked him. “What do you want, then?”

 _Fucking finally._ “Like it or not, in this situation, I _do_ have a clearer head than you. I want to complete this mission because my future depends on it, just like yours. If I try to stop you from flinging yourself into a fucking death trap, it’s not because I have some grand, evil scheme to keep you from the mission, it’s because I kind of need you alive, and I _assume_ you want to live long enough to actually save your fucking kid, which would be really hard to do if you’re dead.”

Castellanos glared, but it didn’t have the same fire as before, and fists planted on hips, he let out a long sigh, gaze dropping to the pavement before rising to meet Darius’ again. “Fine. I can’t say I like it, but...I guess it wouldn’t be wrong to say you can keep a more objective view of things.” He offered Darius a wan smile, a weak one, and Darius did not return it. “Guess there’s no chance of hearing more about what happened in that vision, is there?”

“Not a fucking chance in hell.” Darius confirmed. “I already told you: I don’t give a fuck about your curiosity, and I know that’s all you’re driven by. Great for a detective, not great for dealing with me.”

“I mean, that’s not _all_ I’m driven by,” Castellanos pointed out as they began to walk back in the direction of O’Neal’s safehouse, “since it wasn’t _curiosity_ that brought me in here.”

“It’s all you’re driven by where I’m concerned,” Darius retorted dryly, “and that’s reason enough for me.”

Darius couldn’t say he felt _good_ about revealing that kind of raw vulnerability in front of Castellanos, even if only for a brief moment, but it had paid off. Probably. Until the next time Castellanos lost his cool and Darius was forced to intervene _again_.

Still, he’d earned himself a sliver of trust, by giving one in return, and it was a strategy that was worth noting. It didn’t feel good, _nothing_ about vulnerability felt good in Darius’ line of work, but begrudgingly, he was forced to acknowledge it could be useful. It could’ve gone worse, and it hadn’t.

It was a victory in Darius’ book considering the day he’d had thus far, and at this point, he’d take whatever he could get.


	5. Phronesis

_noun:_ _wisdom in determining ends and the means of attaining them_

* * *

Philomena had never been the devout sort, but she could not help but think of the Garden of Eden as she stood at the window of her studio, glass of merlot in hand.

This place that she and Stefano had constructed, it was their own Eden, a place separate from the dull doldrums of Union where they had created artwork in droves, had brought _beauty_ into this colorless, noiseless world. They had been given tools, power, everything they needed to ensure they would never be interrupted by those who would not--could not--understand.

Yet it still was not enough.

Threats lurked beyond their sanctuary, Philomena knew this, but with the Core’s power at their disposal, they could not hope to topple either Philomena herself nor Stefano on their own. They had reached an impasse, a balance of powers that no one could upset, and that was precisely the kind of stalemate she hoped to maintain. Until recently, that goal had been nothing but a cakewalk.

Tonight Philomena considered the flames encroaching upon the garden, ready to light its boughs and fruits ablaze in a tableau of destruction and carnage.

Beautiful, but practically speaking, undesirable.

The balance of power had shifted; Philomena felt it even if Stefano was still assured of their power and their ability to defend against whatever rose to stop them or control them. The new arrivals, the ones who had landed seemingly by chance inside their studio, they could tip the scales, quite easily, even if they themselves were not aware of it. Such things were usually left in her hands--by unspoken agreement, while Stefano was more than capable of defending himself here, Philomena excelled at proactive work.

Draining her glass, Philomena set it gingerly upon a coaster and regarded her piano, sitting in the corner, and her violin, sealed in its case, tuned to perfection.

She could stop the intruders outright, destroy them and the threat they posed. It wouldn’t even be particularly difficult at the moment. It felt like a waste, though, and Philomena was many things, but she was rarely wasteful. Their stalemate _could_ continue indefinitely if she destroyed them, but there was also the chance that it could not. That they could grow complacent with time, and here, time was something everyone had in abundance.

But if the scales could be tipped in the _opposite_ direction...

Decision made, Philomena took rapid strides out of her studio before phasing into the separate chamber she and Stefano had devised to hold the Core. Physically speaking, it was in the theatre, the main focal point and stronghold for their power in the environment of Union, but it was also elsewhere, in the little plane of this world they had sequestered for their own use.

It was a simple room, different than the rest of the studio. Because of the Core’s power, it only made sense that her influence would bleed into its appearance regardless if she put conscious effort into it. There was a bed, a small desk and chair, and a bookshelf. The blankets on the bed had been dark crimson originally, but had changed, at some point, to take on the appearance of a quilt Philomena didn’t recognize--something from the girl’s past, most likely.

She tossed and turned in her bed, murmuring things in an unhappy voice that Philomena couldn’t make out. It had been difficult to get her to settle ever since Stefano brought her back following her brief escape from their realm--she was far more dangerous conscious than asleep, a point she and Stefano had debated hotly on several times already, but he had reluctantly allowed her to lull the girl back to sleep whilst they gathered what power they could from her.

So far as she could tell, Philomena--or, her voice, rather--did not have any true influence over the Core, not like the influence she had over every other living creature in this realm. She had not charmed the Core into sleep, persuaded her mind to quiet for a time.

By all appearances, she had simply been soothed by the sound of Philomena’s voice itself.

It might have been humbling, in a way. Philomena’s voice could charm the bearer of this world’s forbidden fruit, its deepest treasures and reserves of power, simply by existing, without any of the power she siphoned from it.

With a quiet whimper, the Core turned over in her sleep again, shivering. Philomena could not have said what possessed her to do so, but she reached out with one hand and rested it on the girl’s shoulder, softly singing the opening verse in a lullaby she could not remember the origin of. It was in Italian, and she knew the words by rote, and even if the girl could not understand them or even consciously acknowledge Philomena’s voice, some of her trembling stilled, and the pinch of fear on her face slowly faded.

Philomena herself drew strength from her point of contact with the Core, breathing deeply and letting the rush of power flow through her. When it just reached the point of being too much, the kind of power that would burn her out and leave behind nothing but a husk if she let it, she relented, withdrawing her hand and releasing her breath.

Turning her attention to Union, Philomena discovered the new arrivals were making their way through the residential district. It was a fair distance away, but easy enough to traverse with the Core’s power augmenting her ability.

Straightening, Philomena phased back into her studio, striding briskly until she stood before the mirror. Carefully tugging her jacket into order and running a comb through her short locks of black hair, she picked up a tube of red lipstick from the vanity table and gave her lips a fresh coat of deep crimson, almost blood-red in the dim light.

Stefano had the pleasure of granting the new arrivals their first impression of the threat they now faced, but Philomena would not be outdone. Her goal was not to kill, not yet, but to leave an impression, and first impressions, as they said, were everything.

* * *

There was a tension in the air Sebastian didn’t think he was imagining.

It could’ve been between him and Archer, but it didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t say he _liked_ the ex-agent, even remotely, but he had very clearly taken a wide step out of his comfort zone to get his point across to Sebastian at the trucking lot. Sebastian was mildly chagrined it had taken that kind of effort to get through to him, but at the same time, he wasn’t sorry his anger and regret finally had a somewhat constructive outlet.

At his right, Archer held his rifle in that casual resting position again, but his eyes were ever watchful, sweeping the areas they passed and turning over his shoulder every so often to check they weren’t being followed. It was in line with what Sebastian knew about him, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel there was a wariness in his actions that hadn’t been there before encountering the ghost woman. He was spooked, and Sebastian couldn’t say he blamed him.

“There’s something out there,” Archer said, breaking the silence they’d held since leaving the trucking lot. “Don’t think it’s the ghost woman. It’s not cold enough.”

“Here I was hoping you’d tell me I was just being paranoid for feeling the same.”

Archer’s grin was dry and empty of humor. “Pretty sure being paranoid in a hostile STEM world is a bit of a given, or it should be. Fuck knows what else this place has up its sleeves.”

Tense quiet fell between them again, but while Sebastian had been assured it likely wasn’t between him and Archer, that left the unknown in what was _really_ lurking out there. He was right on one point, after all--they had no idea what else was in this place. Sebastian was willing to believe damn near anything at this point.

From somewhere behind them, the sound of music began to drift towards them, and Sebastian tensed. “Archer--”

“I hear it.” Archer had already turned and was sweeping his rifle around, but there were no obvious threats in their line of sight. “It’s not the ghost’s singing. This is...different.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian replied, distracted, as he strained his ears. _Different._ It sure as hell was different. The ghost’s singing had set a stone of dread in his chest, cold and hard, but this music--violin, maybe, accompanied by a different voice--stole the tension from his shoulders, made him release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It felt... _good._

 _“Hey,_ Castellanos--” a hand grabbed Sebastian’s upper arm. He’d apparently taken a few steps forward without being aware, and ordinarily that might’ve bothered him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

He shook the hand on his arm free, annoyed at the interruption. “I’m trying to listen.”

“Yeah, that’s what I”m fucking worried about. Hey. _Hey._ ” A hand emerged in Sebastian’s line of sight, snapping its fingers, but he brushed it absently out of the way. “Snap the fuck out of it, Castellanos, come _on._ We need to get out of here.”

 _Why?_ Why did they need to leave? This was the best Sebastian had felt since entering STEM--no, in years. He didn’t recognize the song he was hearing, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t in English, since he couldn’t understand the words, but it was...beautiful.

The only problem was that he couldn’t hear it as well as he wanted to. Taking another step forward, Sebastian found himself blocked by the person who’d tried to grab him by the arm earlier. He couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he was starting to get irritated with his efforts to block Sebastian from his goal.

...What was his goal, again? _Right._ The music.

“Would you _move?”_ Sebastian tried to shove the other man away, but he was strong, at least as strong as Sebastian himself, and wouldn’t be easily budged. “Can’t you hear the music?”

“Yes, I can fucking hear it, Castellanos. I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into you, but--”

“Don’t bother,” came an unfamiliar voice from behind the other man’s shoulder, a woman’s voice, and he instinctively knew it as the same voice he’d heard singing, “your companion is...preoccupied.”

Releasing him, the other man raised his rifle, and whipped around, blocking Sebastian’s view of whoever was now in front of him. Leaning his head around, he saw a woman with short black hair, donned in a leather jacket tailored to look like a suit’s blazer, fastened at the waist and leaving a long V from the collar. Her facial structure was familiar, somehow, even if Sebastian knew he’d never seen her before.

“Who the fuck are you?” Demanded the man with the rifle.

Curving up into a crimson grin, the woman walked, followed by the rifle’s barrel, in a slow pace back and forth, a predator’s stalk. “Fascinating. It seems you _are_ resistant to my abilities as well as my brother’s. My song does not affect you, and you were able to break one of my brother’s prisms.”

_Her brother? The camera bastard!_

Abruptly, a piece of Sebastian’s memory snapped back into place, clearing some of the fog from his head. He still wasn’t fully back to himself when Archer--that was the man’s name, Archer, Sebastian remembered now--muttered, “Fucking hell, there’s _two_ of them, just our fucking luck.”

“I am Philomena,” the woman declared, raising one hand, which was--bizarrely--holding what looked like a conductor’s baton, “and you interest me greatly. I will be minding your progress. Do not disappoint me.”

“Sorry,” Archer raised his rifle with greater intent this time, “but entertainment isn’t my department.”

Philomena’s grin was unwavering, and only turned sharper. “Fortunately for you, you do not have to be entertaining. Only adaptable.”

In a blue flash, she disappeared, and the pressure on Sebastian’s mind abruptly relented. With a gasp, Sebastian leaned forward with his hands on his knees, drawing in deep breaths. “What the _fuck_ ,” he wheezed, “was that?”

“My guess is, if she was telling the truth, she and her brother are both self-proclaimed ‘artists’ who are drawing the Core’s power for their own ends.” Archer’s lip twisted. “Hers just happens to be a little more insidious.”

“Great.” Sebastian muttered, straightening again and casting a look around to see if she was still around, lurking, but he saw nothing. “One of them was bad enough. She said you’re immune to her power, whatever that means--any idea why?”

Archer lifted and dropped his shoulders in a shrug. “Fuck knows. Could be anything, in a STEM system. O’Neal’s safehouse isn’t far, we should--”

“Oh fuck,” Sebastian breathed as the sound of singing returned, but this time it didn’t seem to be directed at them--instead the scattered creatures who’d been wandering Union’s streets began to converge...headed straight for _them._

Throwing a glance back in the direction of O’Neal’s safehouse, Archer grunted and hefted his rifle. “Too far to make a run for it. How many rounds have you got left?”

Checking his pockets and the magazine still in his weapon, Sebastian shook his head. “Not enough.”

Archer’s rifle rattled as he dispatched the first few who came within range, and in a break between them, he looked around the open street for an advantage. Sebastian caught sight of a shed nearby with a ladder leading to the roof, and he tapped Archer on the shoulder before taking off for the potential refuge. The sound of footsteps and the rattle of the rifle reassured Sebastian that Archer was watching their backs while they got to a better vantage point.

The rooftop ladder was metal, but obviously corroded; it creaked as Sebastian put his weight on it, and halfway up, it snapped entirely. The short rattle of Archer’s rifle stopped, and Sebastian glanced down just in time for Archer to snort and say, “Just my fucking luck.”

“I can help you once I get up here--”

“Don’t bother. Pick ‘em off from there, I have another idea.” Turning and heading for another alley across the street, Sebastian watched him go, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Focusing on hauling himself up the rest of the way, he mentally shelved the reminder that Archer was fucking stubborn as hell about being helped for later consideration.

Across the street, Sebastian watched Archer tip over a metal barrel, which began to spill oil or fuel of some kind across the asphalt. From his new vantage point, Sebastian could pick off some of the stragglers at the back of the pack, but all too soon his pistol’s hammer _clacked_ , empty, and he called down to Archer, “I’m out!”

“Stay up there, this won’t take long,” came the response, as Archer continued to meticulously pick off what looked like random members of the horde, but Sebastian had a feeling it did have some rhyme or reason to it, even if it wasn’t obvious at the moment.

A few seconds later, once the pool of fuel had spread far enough, Archer kicked the mostly-empty barrel into the midst of the pack that was almost too close for comfort, bowling several of them over. The sound of hollow, metallic _thumps_ was accompanied by Archer’s bark of laughter and a question, directed at Sebastian as he began to climb back down the remnants of the ladder, “I don’t remember bowling being this much fun--figure that counts as a strike?”

It seemed in uncharacteristically-good humor for Archer, and he said as much as Archer hastily backtracked away from the wall of fire that sprung up from the spot he fired his rifle into, setting the fuel ablaze. “You seem pretty enthusiastic about this.”

“I like it when a plan comes together. Sue me.” Archer still had an almost manic grin on his face, though, and Sebsatian settled for shaking his head instead of commenting further.

Before they could turn and leave the spread of destruction behind them, however, Sebastian stopped and peered closer into the flames. “What the...?”

Stopping mid-turn, Archer turned back to peer into the flames from the same angle as Sebastian, and he hoped he wasn’t the only one seeing what looked like some kind of _dungeon_ beyond the wall of fire, unnaturally high and still burning bright after what felt like far too long for a simple pool of spilled fuel. The grin dropped from Archer’s face, replaced by a thoughtful scowl. “You’re seeing a dungeon, right? I haven’t lost my last marble just yet?”

“No,” Sebastian mused, choosing not to comment it was possible they’d just _both_ lost their last collective marble, “there’s something on the other side.”

With the time-honed instinct that someone’s eyes were watching him, Sebastian turned and found their original foe, the woman in the tailored leather coat, perched atop a roof nearby, also apparently watching the flame. Philomena, if he remembered right from when she’d introduced herself, if it could be called that when Sebastian had apparently been under her spell at the time.

She turned her gaze long enough to lock eyes with him before disappearing in a blue flash, and Sebastian reached out blindly for wherever Archer was, hand landing on a shoulder as he began to backtrack both of them away. “Whatever’s in there, I don’t think we should stick around to see what it’s about.”

“Yeah,” Archer still had that pensive look on his face, but reluctantly turned away from the fire and the odd tableau just beyond it.

Fortunately, they made it to O’Neal’s safehouse without further excitement, and the sole occupant of the safehouse glanced up at their arrival. “I see you’re both still intact. Please tell me you know where the Core is and are about to go get it.”

Biting his tongue against the instinctive urge to correct anyone referring to Lily as the Core, Sebastian said, “No. But we’ve found a possible lead. Two people are apparently using Li--the Core--to boost their own power here.”

“Is it possible we could track them with the resonances like we could with the Core?” Archer asked from the weapon workbench, fiddling with his tools.

“It’s possible--I did pick up two new frequencies I’ve never seen before.” O’Neal pulled out his own communicator and spun a few dials. “One is around City Hall, the other somewhere here in the residential district.”

“Can you tell which is which?” Sebastian figured it was probably a long shot, but after the display he’d just seen, he didn’t relish running into Philomena again if she had so much sway over his mind.

“Let’s see...” O’Neal’s lip twisted in concentration, and something began to play from his communicator--music, and Sebastian recognized it as the music that played with the photographer’s ‘artworks’. “That’s the one coming from City Hall.”

“So that means the musician’s still here in the residential district.” Archer finished with his rifle and slung it over one shoulder, leaning against the workbench with arms folded. “We’ll have to split up if we want to hit both of them at once--no telling which one’s got the Core.”

O’Neal hesitated, and slipped his communicator back into its holster. “Getting to City Hall...might be a little complicated. Come outside, and I can show you.”

Out of everything Sebastian expected from their short trip outside, learning that City Hall floated _above_ them was near the bottom of that list. “How the _hell_ are we supposed to get up there?”

 _“You,”_ Archer corrected, “how the hell are _you_ supposed to get up there? If that musician can influence you, but not me, I’m going after her.”

Back inside the safehouse, O’Neal continued, “There’s kind of a ‘backstage’ area of Union, where Mobius operatives could observe the experiment in secret, called ‘the Marrow’. They’re passageways, not physical tunnels, but there should be one that gets you to City Hall. A computer on the other side of the district should get you into the Marrow--I’ll mark its location on your log--and I can tell you what exit you’ll need to take to reach City Hall once you get there.”

“Wonderful.” Archer clapped his hands together once. “Let’s get to it, then.”

“Two more things,” O’Neal turned and rummaged around in a crate behind him for a moment before producing a gas mask, which he held out in Sebastian’s direction, “some of the Marrow’s passageways are a little unstable from the partial collapse of Union, and my communicator’s registering poison gas in one of them. You’ll need this to get through.”

“Deadly gas leaks,” Sebastian remarked dryly as he took the mask and attached it to his belt, “sounds like a great time. What’s the last thing?”

“There’s supposed to be a device called the Stable Field Emitter at City Hall,” O’Neal drummed his fingers against the surface he’d been using as a sort of workbench, “and turning it on would help stabilize the environment if you can’t find the Core pretty soon. Might not restore anything that’s already been lost, but it’ll at least help keep things falling apart any worse.”

“Great. Let’s go hunting, then.” Archer shouldered open the safehouse’s door, and Sebastian followed on his heels until they reached the street again. Communicator in hand, Archer frowned until the static resolved into what had to be the musician’s signal--it sounded different than the photographer’s, at any rate. “Pretty far away. Looks like we’re sticking together til we find that Marrow computer.”

On his own communicator, Sebastian tracked the marker O’Neal had placed to show him where the Marrow computer was. “Who do you figure comes up with these ridiculous names?”

Archer snorted as they began to walk. “Someone who gets paid far too much for very little actual work. Seems like a Mobius thing to do.”

Despite his personal feelings about the organization--or maybe because of them--Sebastian couldn’t help some curiosity. “Can I ask you about Mobius?”

“What about it?”

This was farther than Sebastian had gotten with Kidman, at least. “I guess the most obvious place to start is--what _is_ it, exactly?”

“Better question would be, what _isn’t_ it?” Archer rolled his shoulders. “They do everything, basically. Got their fingers in every conceivable pie you can think of. They’ve been around a long time--over a hundred years, at least, and even I don’t know exactly when or how they got started. But they’re powerful. More than most people would give ‘em credit for, hiding in the shadows.”

“What do they want?” Sebastian found himself falling back on the line of questioning he might’ve taken during a case at KCPD, seeking motive, means, the basics that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of even after three years of looking.

Archer paused at that question, frowning thoughtfully again with a narrow-eyed expression, before shaking his head. “Boiled down to a single concept? Control. They paint it as leadership, that they’re the ones who are going to ‘usher humanity into a new era of peace and cooperation’, but it’s a crock of bullshit. They want control, and whatever they can’t control,” the corners of Archer’s eyes turned pinched, and his frown became more of a snarl, “they destroy.”

There was something more personal in that statement, but Sebastian resisted the urge to press the topic; he’d learned by now Archer didn’t really take to that very well. Instead, he commented, “You don’t seem to have a problem spilling all their secrets.”

Archer’s bark of laughter that time was more harsh and empty of humor than earlier, rolling a barrel of fuel into a horde of transformed creatures. “Castellanos, I haven’t even _touched_ the surface of all the Mobius secrets I’m keeping. What I’m telling you now is exactly what you’re asking for--you wouldn’t know the questions to ask to hear everything I know.”

Maybe it was the certainty of finally having a plan, Archer’s inclination to answer Sebastian’s questions about Mobius without protest, or his oddly cheerful mood earlier, but Sebastian found himself joking, “All right--how about you tell me everything you know?”

A withering glare was thrown at him from where Archer walked at his right, but it didn’t feel openly antagonistic like many of their other exchanges had been. “Now you’re just taking the fucking piss. I can’t exactly condense every detail of my seventeen-year career with Mobius into a single answer.”

“The highlights, then.”

“Oh yeah, there were _plenty_ of those,” Archer rolled his eyes, “because working for a secret shadow organization as their own personal bloodhound was such a fucking riot.”

He was getting more evasive. Sebastian had to be encroaching on territory Archer didn’t want to discuss. He tried a different topic. “How’d you manage to avoid them for as long as you did, if they really are everywhere?”

Archer’s sidelong glance was a considering one, but then he faced forward again as they reached the main intersection of intact Union streets. “By being careful, watching my ass, and covering my tracks. Not to mention that, without me, they didn’t have anyone at my caliber they could send to hunt me down. Did you know that before me, rogue agents had an average life expectancy of about twenty-four hours?”

It gave Sebastian a few important pieces of information. If Archer was telling the truth--which, Sebastian doubted he was telling the _whole_ truth, but that was about what he expected--he had been one of Mobius’ strongest assets before leaving them, which made his presence here for this mission slightly more believable. A piece of the puzzle that was still missing was what Archer stood to gain from taking the risk of coming back to work for the same people he’d left on poor terms with and given the runaround for over three years.

Sebastian had a feeling he wouldn’t get that piece of the story for quite some time, if at all.

While Archer’s question had probably been rhetorical, Sebastian still answered, “Mobius have a lot of rogue agents?”

“A handful during my career. One every few years. Usually they get weeded out during the induction process, but nobody’s perfect--not even Mobius psychs.”

Sebastian had a hard enough time dealing with the psychologist the force had shoved down his throat after Beacon, he couldn’t even imagine what dealing with a Mobius psychologist would be like. Opening his mouth to respond, something caught his eye near a Mobius APC, and he veered in its direction.

“What’s that?” Archer followed after a beat of hesitation, and Sebastian picked up a vaguely familiar weapon--a crossbow.

“Haven’t seen one of these since Beacon--could come in handy.” More than that, it was better than only carrying a pistol, especially if he really was going to be facing the murderer with the camera. A few bolts lay next to where the crossbow had been: a few harpoon bolts and a few with a fuse attached, maybe the shock bolt type. Checking his communicator, Sebastian noted the distance between their location and the Marrow computer. “We’re getting close.”

Checking his own communicator, Archer turned until he seemingly locked onto the signal again. “Looks like the musician’s changed location. We’ll split up here.”

Sebastian couldn’t say he felt _apprehensive_ to be traveling alone again, since it was, after all, what he’d wanted and expected at the beginning of this mission, but he’d started to get used to having Archer at his right, and suddenly being alone in an empty, hostile world didn’t sound all that appealing. Nonetheless, he shrugged and said, “Fine. Don’t get killed while I’m gone.”

“Careful, Castellanos, or I’ll start to think you’ve got a soft heart. Worry about yourself--I’ll do the same.” Rolling one shoulder, Archer turned and walked purposefully in the opposite direction from where Sebastian was about to be heading.

Once he disappeared around one of Union’s alleys, Sebastian pulled out his communicator and dialed Kidman’s frequency. She picked up on the second buzz. “Sebastian? What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a lead on Lily,” he began brusquely, without preamble, “and Archer and I have split up to take on different targets. I’m heading into the Marrow--which you neglected to tell me about--to find one of them.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t have time to do a full briefing before we sent you in, but--”

“You didn’t think it would be this bad. Yeah, I remember.”

“Can you give me any more information on the targets you and Archer are going after?” Kidman changed tack before Sebastian could get going on another tangent, and reluctantly he acknowledged it was a useful enough topic change. “I could try and find files or something to help, since they’ve got to be Union citizens.”

“One of them was a woman--Philomena, she said her name was. Her brother is apparently the one Archer and I first saw, with the knife.” Sebastian relayed the details he remembered, few though they were. “That name ring any bells?”

“Not for me personally,” Kidman mused, probably looking something up, “but I think I’ve found your culprits, based on your earlier description of the man with the knife: Stefano and Philomena Valentini. I’ll send some extra information to your Room. Hopefully it helps.”

Sebastian hesitated, considered, then plowed ahead. “I have one more thing to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Can you give me any more information on Archer?”

There was a long pause before Kidman finally sighed and said, “I sympathize with your situation, Sebastian, but there’s not much I can tell you, or even send to you. Archer’s files were sealed after he went rogue, and only the Administrator has access now, as far as I know. I know it can’t be easy to rely on him for help when you know so little about him--except that he worked for an organization you have...bad history with--but I wouldn’t have recommended bringing him in for this mission if I didn’t think he could pull it off. All I have access to now is his basic dossier, and I can send that to you, but I doubt it’ll be of much help.”

“It’s better than nothing. Thanks, Kidman.” Chewing his lower lip, he added, “Can I talk to Nadia?”

After another beat, Nadia’s voice came over his receiver. “Hey, Seabass.”

“Keeping entertained out there?”

“No.” Nadia’s reply was petulant and vaguely sulky, and Sebastian grinned. “It’s boring as fuck out here. I alternate between watching you sleep in that STEM tub and watching Kidman’s computer screen, not that I understand what’s even happening on it. That guy with black hair and the suit, though, he finally got up to leave and take a break, maybe. It’s been just me and Kidman and the other Mobius agents in here for about twenty minutes now.”

“Little mercies, I guess.”

“Making any progress in there?”

“Some, but not as much as I’d like,” Sebastian admitted with a sigh. “We don’t know where she is, but we know of two people who could have her. Archer’s going after one, I’m going after the other. Hopefully one of them gets us something.”

“You’ll find her, Sebastian.” Nadia’s confidence had been infectious before, both during the three years they’d spent on the hunt as well as the time leading up to it, but this time Sebastian couldn’t adopt her approach as easily. “If she’s in there, you’ll find her.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I should let you get back to it, but be careful, yeah? I don’t really _want_ to come in there after you, but I still would.”

Sebastian smiled, remembering the altercation with the Mobius agents at the bar, and Nadia breaking a nearby glass over one of their heads. “I know you would. Thanks, Nadia.”

“Go kick ass, Seabass.”

The line cut out, and Sebastian released another breath before drawing in a deeper one, for fortitude, approaching the building that had to house the computer to take him into the Marrow. Just inside was a mirror, and it cracked, glowing with bright golden light as Sebastian approached. After a split-second’s consideration, he went towards it. Now was as good a time as any to see what information Kidman had sent him.

It still felt more than a little surreal to see his old KCPD office after he’d quietly been let go months after Beacon, but oddly homey--so much of his life had been spent there, with good and bad memories both. Shaking himself free of nostalgia before it could properly take hold, Sebastian went into the office itself, and found new pieces of information pinned to the corkboard.

Some of it was relevant to the people he and Archer had encountered thus far--the Valentini siblings. Twins, judging by their birthdate. Their pictures erased any doubt Sebastian might have had about their identities, and seeing them side-by-side, it was easy to tell they were nearly identical in appearance. Stefano had been a war photographer once, it seemed, before turning it into art--albeit what most people, or critics, at least, considered very grotesque, pointless art.

There was less information about Philomena--apparently she valued her discretion, unlike her brother, who very obviously enjoyed the attention that being an open member of any art community provided him. There were notes about her musical skill in childhood, a gap of history between the age of twenty-one and twenty-five where nobody, it seemed, had known what she was doing, and then there was a short list of certifications and degrees she’d gotten in the study of music before things dropped off again when she was thirty--the point where she’d been recruited by Mobius, probably.

It seemed like she’d been on an uphill career swing beforehand, so it left the question of what had convinced her to become part of the Union project, but another file, correspondence between Mobius agents, gave him the answer.

_Subject: STEM Candidates 10045 and 10046_

_Name(s): Stefano Valentini, Philomena Valentini_

_In order to more accurately simulate a real-world environment, Union requires creative personality types--candidates 10045 and 10046 are unique in the fact they are identical twins both with creative leanings. While candidate 10045 was the original target for STEM insertion, candidate 10046 was adamant that they come as a pair and would not be separated for the purposes of the experiment, implying deep loyalty to their familial bond. Overwriting the memories of identical twins with similar personality types could potentially be an experiment in itself, to determine if familial bonds are capable of complicating the memory overwrite. Therefore, we recommend candidates 10045 and 10046 for STEM insertion._

“Bastards,” Sebastian muttered, because he could, and because even though they were his enemies, they too had been victimized by Mobius, turned into experiments. Setting the files aside, he turned his attention to the other side of the corkboard, where a single sheet of paper was tacked up...and below that, on the surface of the cabinet, three candles, with a thicker file folder. Frowning, Sebastian forewent the folder for the moment and turned his attention to the basic dossier Kidman had sent him.

  * NAME: Darius Joel Archer
  * DOB: 2/1/1973
  * PLACE OF BIRTH: London, England
  * HEIGHT: 6’3”
  * WEIGHT: 201 lbs
  * PROFICIENCY: Infiltration, assassination, asset retrieval, cyberwarfare, sabotage, combat specialist.



Below that was a whole lot of black ink, but Sebastian did pick one more detail out of it. A codename, apparently Archer’s most common handle when deployed to the field: Lone Wolf. It was in line with what Sebastian knew about Archer both by his own admission and what he’d observed about the man in their time working together, brief though it was.

It wasn’t much, and didn’t offer him any insight into Archer’s motivations, but Sebastian mentally noted what he’d learned in case it became relevant later. Setting it aside, he regarded the folder sitting on the counter, with those three candles lit next to it. Unease churned in his chest, cold and serpentine. Kidman had said she didn’t have much information about him, and unless she had only been saying that as a cover-up before sending him more data, he couldn’t explain the presence of what had to be more information from some unknown source.

Sebastian found himself reaching for the file folder’s cover before hesitating, and drawing his hand back. He _did_ want to know more about Archer, wanted to unravel whatever his motivations were in case they ended up conflicting with Sebastian’s own, but this still felt...wrong, somehow. Kidman had told him she’d brought Archer in for this mission for a reason, and while Sebastian didn’t yet know what that reason was, Kidman had been straightforward with him so far--about as much as he expected, at least.

Withdrawing more decisively, Sebastian returned to the mirror and stepped back through the bright gold glow, into the safehouse with the Marrow computer.

“All right,” he muttered to himself, laying his hands on the keyboard, “let’s see what happens.”

* * *

A half-empty bottle of merlot sat upon Philomena’s cabinet, and she drained her glass for the second time in the past hour.

Her foray into the residential district had left her a great deal to think about. Her encounter with the two new arrivals, particularly the one who was _immune_ to her power, and able to evade Stefano’s, and the other, full of fire that was just barely reined in. They were remarkable, but more than that, they were _dangerous._

And she knew what she had seen in the aftermath of their attack, the creative solution to her charmed horde as flames had climbed far higher than they should have. She knew what it meant, that the influence of their former benefactor was growing stronger, and it only served to reinforce the point that the balance of power was on the verge of tipping.

There was a brief flash, and Stefano appeared within her studio, face pinched with annoyance. “I was in the middle of something. Is this really so important?”

“It is.” Philomena adored her twin, and from the fragmented memories that slowly drifted back to her, they had always been each other’s staunchest support, but there was a practicality in her that her brother did not always share, and sometimes, as right now, it grated on her nerves. “I encountered the new arrivals today. One of them is immune to my song--the same as the one who was able to break free of your prism, I imagine.”

“Yes, yes,” Stefano waved one hand dismissively, “a complication, but they can be dealt with.”

“There’s more.” Philomena withdrew another wine glass and poured until it was half-full, handing it over to Stefano as she replenished her own glass. “Theodore’s influence is growing stronger. He touched Union proper, albeit briefly, as I watched the arrivals defend against my ambush.”

“We still have the advantage in our possession of the Core. Perhaps we ought to use it.”

“We should,” Philomena agreed, hesitantly, “but not in the way I think you are imagining. There are three ways we could approach this. Firstly, we could attempt to muster what power we have and strike Theodore directly. It would leave us more vulnerable to the new arrivals, which is also my concern for the second option. We take our power and destroy them, but weaken ourselves to Theodore, and whatever other power resides in here. I have not been able to see it, as such, but I can feel it. I know you can, as well.”

“I do not think I will like the third option, but if I know you, it is the one you feel most strongly about.” Stefano’s smirk as he took a sip of the wine was dry, and perhaps a little exasperated, but if nothing else, he was still here listening to her.

“We make a deal with the new arrivals and consolidate all of our resources.” Philomena delivered the third option with all the ruthless bluntness she could manage. “We have already proven unreliable to Theodore, and I do not wish to rely on him further. We know nothing about the other force in here, but it does not seem amenable to negotiation.”

“And you believe the new arrivals are?”

“I believe we will not know until we make the attempt.”

“You are talking about surrendering the Core to them. Giving up everything we have created, _could_ create. I cannot say I enjoy that notion.”

“I did not think you would,” Philomena drained her glass again and mentally scolded herself for over-indulging, “but if we weigh that option against potentially losing our lives entirely or worse, I still think it is our smartest angle. Nothing about that arrangement need be permanent--we may simply reapproach the situation as events develop. All I know with certainty is that if the Core falls into Theodore’s hands, or the hands of the other force, we will almost certainly perish. The new arrivals are an unknown, but that is something we can use.”

Stefano considered, drumming his fingers on the desk nearby where Philomena had set her bottle of merlot. Setting his glass down, at last he nodded once, albeit reluctantly. “I do not much care for this idea, but I know better than to imagine I could convince you otherwise at this stage. Approach them if you must, but I still have things to attend to, projects to finish. Do let me know if it goes poorly--we may be able to salvage the situation with a different strategy.”

He disappeared without awaiting a response, and Philomena rolled her eyes, an uncharacteristically inelegant gesture that felt impulsive and entirely motivated by the particular brand of frustration one felt with their siblings.

Briefly consulting the map of Union--or, its remaining pieces, at least--courtesy of the Core, Philomena found both new arrivals, split up for the moment. One, with the odd immunity, was still in the residential district, the other...elsewhere. Perfect, considering Philomena planned to approach the one who was immune to her abilities.

If she intended to make this negotiation in what would appear to be good faith, after all, she would have to start on somewhat equal footing.

* * *

Darius had expected the peace and quiet to feel nice. It did, sort of, but there was an unease in the air that made him feel jumpier than normal. He refused to react to most of those impulses, well aware and able to call his brain out on its paranoid bullshit when it got to be too much, but it didn’t change the fact he felt like he was being watched.

Still, it was the first time he’d been alone and relatively out of immediate danger since first appearing in that photographer’s studio, and he was determined to make the most of it, starting with...

Checking his nearby surroundings, Darius determined that it would be safe enough to slip into a nearby gap between two houses to get off the street, which felt far too open for his tastes, even if he knew Castellanos was nowhere nearby. His communicator had lost the musician’s signal several minutes ago, and lacking anything better to do, he’d started to patrol the neighborhood, quietly dispatching the transformed citizens whenever he crossed paths with them.

Now that he was out of sight, it was time to investigate something else, which he’d put in his figurative and literal back pocket since he and Castellanos had first crossed paths with O’Neal. Taking one last look around and confirming he was as alone as he could be, Darius pulled out the Mobius-issue syringe with the deep orange vial. He was fairly sure he already knew what it was, but...

“Hey, O’Neal, you around?” Darius spoke absently into his communicator, turning the vial over in his free hand.

“What is it?”

“I need to ask you something and have you not ask me why I’m asking it, all right?” Darius plowed ahead before O’Neal could inevitably ask him anything, and said, “You remember that one project they were working on before I went rogue? The one with the combat stimulants they were making for operatives being sent on more front-line missions?”

“What about it?”

“They make any progress on it since the last time I was around?”

“Well, they made it less lethal,” O’Neal seemed to be thinking, probably wondering why in the hell Darius was asking about this seemingly at random, “but it still has its drawbacks. They use it in the field, but only on abnormally high-risk missions, and under orders only to use it as a last resort.”

“What’s the current mortality rate?”

“No idea, but rumor says it jumped down about 30%. You’d have to get in touch with someone in the science department for the details. Why do you ask?”

“Hey, I just said I needed you _not_ to ask, O’Neal, just drop it, all right?” Darius turned the vial over again as he cut the communication line, lip twisting down thoughtfully. He could call Kidman, ask her the same things, but he’d have to be careful. If the Administrator was around, and listening, as he always was, he’d be able to put the pieces of Darius’ questioning together easily enough. If this vial was what Darius had a strong, _strong_ feeling it was, it could be a huge break for him. Provided it didn’t kill him, of course.

He strongly doubted Mobius actually planted any of these in here for general use, but there was no such thing as a coincidence in STEM--if Castellanos had found syringes identical to ones he’d used in Beacon, it stood to reason Darius himself could somehow bring resources into this space in the same fashion. Granted, the last time he’d used one, in the real world, he _had_ almost died, but if this was the new-and-improved formula that was slightly less lethal, it might be worth the risk in a pinch.

Slipping the syringe back into his pocket, Darius took out his communicator again and held it out as he walked, searching for the musician’s lost signal. It would just be his luck that he’d have to slink back to O’Neal’s safehouse and ask if there was another way to track her, but Darius wasn’t quite to that point just yet.

Just ahead was the wide open space in front of a two-story building that could have been a house or some kind of more rugged-looking office space. He’d rather avoid staying in the open if possible, but there was a chance he might get better signal out there, so after checking his magazine and ensuring his rifle was ready to fire if necessary, Darius took long, careful strides into the open.

Almost exactly in the middle of the open space, his communicator screeched with sudden feedback, and Darius wheeled around, rifle in hand as he strapped his communicator back to his belt, but there were no immediately obvious threats.

The screech of static resolved into a voice, the musician’s, and she said, “I would ask you to lower your weapon, but I imagine that would be asking a bit much.”

“You fucking think?” Darius hadn’t stopped sweeping his gaze around to search for her, considering she could apparently see him and knew he was looking to put no fewer than a magazine of bullets in her. “Before you get any cute ideas, remember you can’t charm me like you could Castellanos.”

“Yes, I remember quite clearly. You have little reason to believe it at the moment, but I have not come with any ‘cute’ ideas, as you say.” The dry humor was mildly surprising, like the last time they met, less than an hour ago, she hadn’t sicced a horde of transformed citizens on him and Castellanos. “I would like to talk, but I will not do so at gunpoint.”

“Show yourself, and we’ll see.” Darius didn’t believe for a split fucking second that this wasn’t a massive trap, but if she actually appeared in his midst, the likelihood would drop just slightly. Not a lot, but enough to at least try and hear whatever the hell she wanted to talk about.

More surprising than the dry humor, there was a blue flash less than five inches in front of where Darius aimed his rifle barrel, and Philomena appeared, arms folded. “Is this satisfactory?”

After a beat of hesitation, Darius shook his head and lowered his rifle, for now. “You’re an odd one, you know that? What makes you think we have anything to talk about? Or that I give a fuck about anything _you_ want to say to _me?”_

“There are factors at play here in this world you and your companion know nothing about.” Philomena’s blue eyes flashed, and she loosened her crossed arms enough to appear less defensive. “Your arrival will tip the balance of power, even if you are unaware of that fact. I could explain the details, but I would rather not do so in the open.”

“Fine.” Casting a look around, Darius spotted a house with its door cracked, and jerked his head in its direction.

Rather than _walk,_ like a normal fucking person, though, Philomena rested a hand on Darius’ shoulder, and before he could shove it away, there was another blue flash, and both of them stood at the house’s porch. Darius’ stomach turned over, but he made an effort to look less queasy than he felt. Philomena pushed the door open and made a gesture within, a tiny shit-eating smirk on her face that Darius was half-tempted to wipe straight off. “After you.”

“Could’ve at least fucking _warned_ me first,” Darius muttered, but strode within, and slung his rifle on his back now it seemed like Philomena really wasn’t about to kill him, at least for the moment. He still had his knife in reach, and that was good enough. “All right, I’m all ears. What the fuck is happening in here?”

“That, I cannot tell you for certain.” Philomena rested a hand on her hip and let her other arm hang loosely. “Myself and my brother were tasked with the retrieval of the Core by a man named Theodore. We were not told explicitly what his plans for the Core were, only that he needed her to ‘remake this world in its proper image’.” Philomena shrugged. “Once Stefano and I felt her power, however, we decided she was better put to use in our hands. Naturally, he was not pleased with this development, but with the Core in our possession, we are--were--too powerful to confront directly.”

“‘Were’?” Darius arched a brow.

“Theodore’s power is growing.” Philomena canted her head to the side. “I believe you and your companion witnessed it firsthand during our first encounter.”

“Witnessed...? Wait--” Darius remembered, in a flash, the wall of fire, and what appeared to be a dungeon behind it, “--the fire? We thought we saw something behind it, but this world is kind of notorious for playing tricks on the brain. There actually something to it besides a hallucination?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Fucking super.” Darius muttered. “So, this ‘Theodore’ is getting powerful enough that you and your cameraman twin are getting cold feet about the whole ‘stealing the Core’ business. Who even _is_ he?”

“I’m afraid I know only his first name, and that he wanted his ‘followers’ to call him Father Theodore. From what I understand, he is styling himself as a sort of spiritual leader.”

A nervous unease churned in Darius’ stomach. A spiritual leader in STEM, who apparently knew what the power of a Core meant? It was probably a long shot, but... “Hang on.”

Rummaging through drawers in the house while Philomena arched a bemused brow, Darius produced a pad of sticky notes and a pen, closing his eyes as he tried to call to mind the image of the symbol he’d seen on a few pieces of paperwork in the Victoriano estate, years and years ago by now.

Roughly sketching, he held it up for Philomena’s inspection. “Were there any symbols around that looked kind of like this?”

Both of Philomena’s brows shot up in a surprised gesture she apparently couldn’t conceal in time, before smoothing her expression down into its usual disinterested one. “Yes, actually. A symbol nearly identical to that one is prominent in his stronghold. You are familiar with it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know it.” This was bad. Bad and a _lot_ more complicated than Darius had been thinking this mission would be. “But I’ll need to talk to someone on the outside to confirm it before I can make any plans. Anything else you feel like sharing?”

“There is one other thing. Another power in this system. Neither my brother nor I have encountered it, but we can feel it, whether because of our connection to the Core or some other factor.” Philomena shifted where she stood. It was the first evidence of a nervous gesture Darius had seen from her so far, and that didn’t make him feel any better. “It _is_ dangerous, however. We have seen marks of its influence as well, but it must be hiding, or biding its time, perhaps.”

Chewing his lip, Darius let out a sigh and refocused. He could untangle all of this later, after checking in with Kidman and Castellanos. “All right, you’ve told me all this for a reason--what do you want?”

“I want to make a deal.” Philomena’s blue eyes sharpened into icy slivers. “I said before that the arrival of yourself and your companion--Castellanos, is it?--would tip the balance of power. Myself and my brother are strong, with the Core in our hands, but soon I fear it will not be enough to save us. Both Theodore and this other power are arrayed against us. Myself and Stefano _could_ fight you and your companion, and one of us would surely destroy the other, but whoever remains would be weakened, and the Core could easily be taken from the survivor’s hands by either Theodore, or the other, unknown, power. Understandably, that is an undesirable outcome for all parties.”

“You want an alliance?” Darius raised both brows. “With me and Castellanos? Figured you’d rather throw your lot in with the people who are already powerful enough to threaten you and just wipe us out completely.”

“As I said, Stefano and I defied Theodore’s wishes, and he would surely exact punishment for such a thing.” Philomena shifted her weight onto her other leg. “While you and your companion are relative unknowns, I would rather take that risk than swallowing my pride enough to throw myself upon Theodore’s dubious mercy.”

Darius considered. They’d already seen the twins’ power firsthand, both in the studio and in the world of Union proper. Plus, if they got their hands on the Core, that would go a long way towards helping Castellanos calm down. Probably. Convincing him this was a good idea would be difficult, but it was the best offer he’d gotten since getting in this system, and after everything she’d told him, he doubted she was lying. Concealing some of the truth, maybe, but then so was he. “First things first,” Darius straightened his spine and set his shoulders, “I want to see the Core.”

Philomena canted her head forward in a small nod. “Simple enough. I will have to phase us there, if you can tolerate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get it over with.” Darius wrapped his fingers loosely around his knife’s grip as Philomena approached and rested her hand on his shoulder again. He was effectively going off the grid now, and if his and Castellanos’ initial foray through the studio told them anything, it was that he couldn’t rely on being able to reach anyone by communicator. It was a risk, but if it paid off, it could shorten their mission time--and reduce complications--by a lot.

With a blue flash, the Union house disappeared, replaced by a room that looked vaguely like an odd mish-mash between the studio Darius remembered, and a child’s bedroom. “Her influence seems to bleed over into this space unconsciously,” Philomena explained as she watched Darius take it in, “and is constantly changing. Yet more evidence of the depths of her power.”

It was a simple bedroom, bedecked in dark wood paneling with red paint on the walls. The floor was not checkered tile, like the studio proper, but wood, with a rug over it. A desk, bookshelf, and bed that looked very out of place in such a room were the only fixtures of furniture.

Within the bed was a girl, asleep, only about five or six years old by Darius’ estimation, and he knew her face instantly from the file the Administrator had shown him before coming in here. Judging by her birth date, she should’ve looked more like a ten-year old by now, but maybe spending so much time in STEM had made it difficult for her to conceptualize herself any older than she remembered being at the beginning of this project. Something to think about later.

“So that’s the Core, then.” Darius spoke, despite knowing exactly who it was. Even without the connection to this place, to the Core, that Philomena probably had, he could still feel the sheer _power_ teeming in this room, enough to make his extremities tingle with an almost-uncomfortable pins-and-needles intensity. It reminded him vaguely of the times he’d spent in STEM with Ruben, years ago, but there was no feeling of familiarity here. “You realize if we’re going to convince Castellanos that you really do want an alliance with us, he’s going to want to see her himself, right?”

Philomena’s gaze jerked back to him. “Absolutely not. The Core is kept here because this is mine and Stefano’s realm, and cannot be easily breached by any power in this system--not even Theodore. Removing her puts her, and all of us, at significant risk.”

Internally, Darius rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. I really do. But this is his fucking _kid_ we’re talking about, for your fucking information, and he’s not just going to take our fucking word for it unless he _sees_ her.”

“His...?” Philomena looked back at the Core, shock plain on her face before it was swept away and replaced with a grim, resigned look in the firm press of her lips and set of her jaw. “I see. Where is he, then?”

“He was going to City Hall, to, uh--” _Oh shit._ “--hunt down your brother. For information. Speaking of which, he’s in on this, right? We’re not gonna have to deal with him once we get there?”

Philomena looked like she very badly wanted to roll her eyes, but reduced the gesture to an expression of faint exasperation. “Yes, he is aware. I would not have put so much on the line without first discussing it with him. City Hall, you said? We can likely still intercept him. Take the Core, if you would.”

Darius shifted uncomfortably. “Can’t you take her?”

It wasn’t that Darius _wouldn’t_ , but the terms _Darius Archer_ and _children_ were almost never juxtaposed next to each other in any way, for good goddamn reason. He wasn’t exactly the type of person that any children should be exposed to if it could be helped.

Unfortunately, Philomena’s practical streak continued to hold strong. “I am still the more powerful of the two of us, and if we _do_ encounter something hostile, I am the one who will be most able to defend us.”

Releasing a breath, Darius slung his rifle across his back and reached down to pick up the sleeping Core. “Will she stay asleep?”

“She should, yes,” Philomena replied as Darius carefully settled the Core against one hip, in a gesture so poorly-practiced and scarcely-used it felt almost _wrong_ , but he couldn’t think of any other way to fucking do it, “but she might wake after we phase.”

“Hope not,” Darius muttered, shifting the Core again, “because being carried around by a stranger _definitely_ won’t add another extra dash of trauma to this whole experience.”

Philomena was silent as she prepared to phase them, which left Darius the uncomfortable opportunity to turn his last statement over in his brain with a growing sense of unease. The Core was a means to an end. An objective. It had been easy to compartmentalize that fact before actually _seeing_ her and recognizing her as nothing but a kid that Mobius _used._ It shouldn’t have made a difference considering Darius had seen her picture in her file folder before setting foot in here, and he’d known exactly what it meant, but it was somehow different _knowing_ it versus _seeing_ it.

Mentally shaking himself out of it, Philomena rested her hand on his shoulder once more, and in another blue flash, they appeared in front of a building with a clock tower, the same one O’Neal had shown them. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence with barbed wire over the top, giving it more of a militaristic impression than that of an artist’s studio. Philomena frowned, and that already sent warning bells ringing in Darius’ brain. “Strange. He has fortified this place considerably since the last time I was here.”

“Hang on, let me see if...” carefully shifting the Core so he had one arm free, Darius reached for his communicator and set it to Castellanos’ frequency. It buzzed once, twice, three times, and on the fourth it clicked. “Castellanos?”

“A little busy,” came the response, harsh and breathless and sounding as though it’d been spoken through his teeth.

“Get un-busy, then--I’ve got the Core.”

Dead silence fell across the line, and bizarrely, there was the sound of an old-fashioned camera going off, and...the entire City Hall building began to _shake._

Well, ‘shake’ was a bit of a vague descriptor, really it looked like it was distorting so hard it resembled an image on a dying computer monitor from the 90s, and Philomena’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Without a word, she disappeared in a blue flash, before Darius could even think to protest being left out in the _fucking open while holding the fucking Core._ In a blink, she was back, this time with her twin in tow.

For a split second Darius was sure he was fucked, that Philomena had just lured him into the open to kill him with the help of her brother, but he _was_ still holding the Core, a significant bargaining chip in any negotiation. “Where’s Castellanos?” Was what he demanded instead.

He might as well have been fucking invisible for all Philomena acknowledged the question, both of her hands resting on her twin’s shoulders--he looked a little off-balance, now Darius thought about it, a little queasy, even. “What happened?” Philomena asked him, giving his shoulders a careful shake.

“An emitter stored within the hall itself. It disrupts our influence, and one of our... _associates_ turned it back on.” On the word _associates_ , drawn out and dripping with disgust, Stefano’s glare found Darius, but he raised his chin and met it without flinching. “Since it appears as though your negotiations were successful.”

“They’re only successful if we can convince Castellanos, and I’m not exactly fucking seeing him here, now am I?”

And then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the Core began to fidget in Darius’ grasp, and god fucking help him if he had to explain to the Core wherever the hell her dad was. She lifted her head, blinking blearily at her surroundings, but surprisingly, didn’t seem all too shocked to find herself carried by someone she didn’t know. She did gasp when she saw the Valentini siblings, and--of all things--clutched Darius’ shoulder _tighter._

A great rumble began to run through the ground beneath Darius’ feet, very different from the distortion that had gripped City Hall itself. Both Philomena and Stefano looked just as unbalanced by the change as Darius himself, so the odds were good that they weren’t the cause. If _they_ weren’t, though--

Darius’ train of thought was abruptly derailed by the asphalt splitting open with a great _CRACK_ and a pillar of fire leaping from the crevice like a living creature. It had no observable face, but Darius still got that inexplicable feeling that someone’s eyes were on him, and all his contemplation promptly went out the window, to be replaced by fight-or-flight instinct, a decision that was made somewhat more difficult with the Core still held in his grasp.

On the other side of the lot, another opening appeared, from which erupted some kind of white, slimy substance, along with a hooded woman whose gaze promptly fixed on him, and well, if he hadn’t been regretting this gamble before, he sure as _fuck_ was regretting it now.

A flash of movement at City Hall caught Darius’ eye, and from the doors Castellanos came tumbling, almost falling over himself in his haste before screeching to a halt at the Hall’s steps. His gaze, too, found Darius with the Core in his grasp.

For a beat, nothing moved, nothing breathed, and Darius felt uncomfortably, completely, at the center of everyone’s attention.

Out of the corner of his eye, Darius watched the Core reach one arm out for where Castellanos stood across the lot, and cried _“Dad!”_

Like the single word had been the cue everyone was waiting for, every living creature in the radius of the courtyard leaped into motion, but no sooner had Castellanos’ foot touched the ground below the steps that all hell almost literally broke loose.

The crevice that the fire had originally come from spread without warning, and Darius found himself sinking before he could think to leap back up. He contemplated, for a split second, throwing the Core atop the ledge, but then that meant she’d either fall into this Theodore’s hands, or whoever the fuck the hooded woman was, and Darius had a feeling Castellanos wouldn’t be thrilled about that. Not that the girl staying with Darius would be much of an improvement.

There was a flash of blue light at Darius’ right, and he turned his head to find Stefano, who was reaching out with one gloved hand--probably in an attempt to phase them both back to relative safety--but mere inches before his hand made contact, the whole world _lurched_ , and the ground under Darius’ feet disappeared, and only seconds after that, the world became nothing but darkness, fire, and the sound of frantic, panicked screams.

One of them might even have been his.


	6. Volte-Face

_noun:_ _a turnabout, especially a reversal of opinion or policy_

* * *

For all that Nadia didn’t understand a damn thing on Kidman’s computer screen, it wasn’t hard to tell when the system suddenly and violently went on the fritz.

“Agent Kidman?” One of the other Mobius agents called out, “We’ve lost complete contact with Archer. The Marker is still registering on the map, but we can’t get a hold of him.”

“Keep trying, and let me know if you can get a line down to him.” Kidman was typing rapid-fire on her keyboard even as Nadia watched the computer screen--showing some kind of status readouts from the STEM system, all of which were in the red at the moment--put on its fireworks show. “What about the two frequencies we registered just before losing contact?”

“We think those frequencies are what’s causing the jam--even with our workaround so we could keep in touch with Archer and the Marker, there’s too much interference.” Another agent replied from his terminal. “I’ll send someone down to the server room and see if we can’t refine the connection.”

“Understood. Keep me posted.” Kidman’s lips pursed tightly, and Nadia didn’t dare open her mouth for fear of blurting out a long string of questions Kidman probably didn’t have the answers to right now. There was a thoughtful expression on her face, though, in the chewing of her lip and the distracted absence in her gaze that told Nadia something else had to be afoot.

She needed to get Kidman alone if she was going to ask about it. Pushing herself away from the desk and spinning around in the chair, Nadia announced, “I’m bored. Can I take a walk?”

“You can’t go anywhere without an escort.” Kidman said with a twitch of her jaw that said she’d really wanted to roll her eyes, but suppressed the gesture. “I can go with you since we’re just waiting for the connection issue to get resolved.”

Outside the STEM control room, Nadia and Kidman walked. Waiting until they reached the fake garden they’d stopped at originally, Nadia turned around so that Kidman was forced to stop and wait for her, or risk running into her. Folding her arms across her chest, Kidman copied the gesture, apparently sensing there was an ulterior motive to the walk.

“You know some of what’s going on, don’t you?” Nadia asked without preamble.

Kidman sighed slightly, but there was a smile attached to it, albeit a faint one. “I should have known you were paying more attention than I gave you credit for.”

“I hung out with an ace detective for five years, I like to think I’m sharp enough not to slow him down, at least.” Nadia replied, only a half joke. “So...what’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you _everything,_ but I suspect the interference is...two powers in the system coming into conflict. Over Lily. One of them I don’t know for certain, but the other...” Kidman trailed off, worrying her lip between her teeth, “...it’s--”

A chime went off from Kidman’s earpiece, and she tapped the receiving button. Nadia could have just about throttled whoever was on the other side. Without further explanation, Kidman was power-walking back down the corridor, and Nadia had to jog to keep up, hissing under her breath, “We’re not done talking about this.”

“Later,” Kidman replied, low and under her breath, “but we’ve re-established contact with Sebastian, and we need to hear what just happened before I can tell you more.”

Back in the STEM control room, Kidman and Nadia took their seats, and Kidman immediately tapped her earpiece again, tuning back into Sebastian’s frequency. “Sebastian? Sebastian! Can you hear me?”

There was a long beat of silence corrupted by static, and Nadia leaned forward subconsciously as the whole room fell into a tense quiet, waiting. Leaping straight through the glass window and into the STEM room below to shake Sebastian’s shoulders until his teeth rattled was starting to seem like a reasonable response to the situation when finally, _finally,_ Sebastian’s voice filtered through. “Kidman.”

It was definitely Sebastian, but there was also definitely something wrong. Before Nadia could ask to speak to him, Kidman was forging on ahead. “Sebastian, what happened?”

There was another long beat of quiet, then Sebastian’s voice said, just barely above a whisper, “I _saw_ her, Kidman.”

“Saw who? Lily?”

Another torturous beat of quiet later, a voice returned, but it wasn’t Sebastian’s--a woman’s voice, accented, cold, and clipped, said, “I believe your cohort is somewhat in shock at the moment. He is not physically injured, however he has not yet come to terms with what just happened.”

“Who is this?” Kidman’s voice sharpened to a blade-fine point, and sat up straighter in her chair. “What did you do to him?”

“Philomena Valentini. Your cohort--Sebastian Castellanos, I presume--saw the Core just before she, your other agent, and my brother disappeared into another pocket of this world.” If possible, the voice turned somehow even more glacial. “I do hope, for your sake, the Core’s, and your agent’s, that you have a plan for getting them back.”

* * *

Sebastian felt like he was burning.

He was back in the house, burning to cinders even as he fought his way through the smoke and collapsing beams, up the stairs, but the stairs didn’t _end._ Up and up and up he climbed, lungs clutched tight in red-hot chains, heart thundering in his ears loud enough to drown out everything else.

Vaguely he was aware of speaking to Kidman, just briefly, before a hand plucked the communicator out of his grasp and began talking into it. He let it.

_“Dad!”_

God, her voice had practically been a perfect echo of Sebastian’s nightmares for the past five years.

Some indefinable amount of time later, Sebastian’s heart slowed, and his breathing became less painful, and his skin wasn’t burning anymore, but his eyes were. Reaching up with one hand to wipe at them, his fingers came back wet, and he furiously brushed the back of his arm against his eyes and face. It had been a long time since he’d felt this pathetic, but nothing, _nothing,_ had prepared him for what it would feel like to see his little girl again, only to have her snatched away right in front of him.

“Sebastian--it _is_ Sebastian, isn’t it?”

And then there was _that_ whole situation. Forcing himself to look up, Sebastian blinked in surprise at his surroundings--it looked much like the studio he and Archer had fled from when they’d first arrived in STEM. This room was smaller, with a piano in one corner, accompanied by a stand with a violin perched in it. A wide glass window overlooking an obscure nighttime view was partly covered by a crimson curtain, letting in a small amount of multi-colored light. The only other light source in the room was a small lamp, sending warm yellow-white rays across the floor.

Standing next to the lamp was the person who had to have spoken--the woman who had charmed him with music, music that Archer was apparently immune to.

“Where are we?” Sebastian asked, instead of confirming that was, in fact, his name.

“My studio.” Philomena went to a small cabinet and produced a decanter from it with clear liquid. Pouring it into a small glass, she took a long, deep drink, before setting a second glass down and filling it as well. Holding it out in his direction, Sebastian hauled himself up off the floor and went to take it from her. “It’s water,” she told him as his fingers closed around it.

He grunted in response. “Shame.”

However much a stronger drink appealed to him at the moment, though, Sebastian drank the whole glass of water at once before handing it back. He needed a clear head. He needed to stay _focused._

“What exactly is happening here?” Was what he finally asked, after gathering his thoughts. He _knew_ what had happened, just now, but really he was asking what had happened to bring them here, what had happened to change their circumstances so dramatically that someone who had tried to kill Sebastian himself as well as Archer less than an hour ago was now _helping_ him.

Fortunately, Philomena seemed to understand well enough. “I reached an accord with your companion, after divulging to him more of the current situation here. He requested to see the Core, so I brought him here, and then he convinced me that _you_ would not be convinced unless you could see the Core for yourself, so we foolishly brought her out of our realm and into the world of Union proper.” With a frustrated sigh, Philomena continued, “I suspect we might not have lost her if I had not let myself be swayed.”

No matter his opinion of Archer in general, he _had_ tried to do something sensible that had helped Sebastian for a few split seconds before everything fell apart, and he felt some odd defensiveness rise up before he could squash it back down. “Well, he _was_ right on that point. I wouldn’t have taken your word for it unless I’d seen her.”

“Marvelous. Do you believe me now?” Philomena drawled, a mocking undertone in her voice that made Sebastian scowl. “I suppose you must, because now we are saddled with the task of _recovering_ her, and it will not be a simple endeavor.”

“You said that you told Archer more information about the current situation. What exactly did you tell him?”

“A great deal, so I will condense it for the sake of brevity.” Folding her arms loosely, Philomena rested her weight on one leg. “Myself and my brother were tasked to recover the Core by a man named Theodore--you saw the mark of his influence in the wall of flame earlier today--who we later defied by keeping her. His power is growing, however, and soon it will reach a point where Stefano and I would have been too weak to face him after facing yourself and your companion--Archer--as well. Or vice versa, if by some chance you had happened to defeat myself and my brother.”

“So you wanted an alliance to help you take down Theodore before he could try and get back at you for going against his orders?” Sebastian tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. “Would we really have made that much of a difference?”

 _“Yes.”_ Philomena replied, emphatically, with such strength it took Sebastian by surprise. “Both of you--you have a significant sway in this world. Strong personality types are always more powerful here, it seems, and you as well as Archer must have very strong willpower indeed. We will need it for the work ahead.”

“One last thing.” It had been dangling in the back of Sebastian’s mind, and with everything else temporarily sorted, it was the last thing he needed to address. “Do you know anything about the other person who arrived? The woman in a robe?”

“I knew that she existed, but until just now I was not even aware she possessed a humanoid form--much less that it _was_ a ‘she’.” Philomena lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug before dropping them. “I could sense her power, however, and she is clearly very dangerous. We may have to contend with her as well before we can safely leave this world.”

“You know this is a fake world?” From what Sebastian had read about Philomena specifically, and assumed about the rest of Union’s citizens, their memories had been overwritten for the purposes of Mobius’ experiment. Part of that would surely have included the notion that Union was, in fact, the ‘real’ world.

Philomena’s smile was wan, and dry. “When Theodore showed Stefano and myself how to manipulate this world for our purposes, when we were first tasked with the Core’s retrieval, the things we were shown defied reality--and after we used our powers more frequently, we began to notice...changes. In our memories. It did not take much effort after that to determine that we were likely not in the real world anymore. I do have questions about that, but they are not as pressing as the task at hand.”

“Right.” Mentally filing away the questions he had a feeling Philomena might want to ask later, Sebastian refocused. “What’s our first step?”

“A difficult question to answer, considering the location of our missing people is...nebulous, to say the least.” Philomena pursed her lips into a thin, blood-red line. “When Union split open under the pressure of the forces being brought to bear in such a small location, the Core, Archer, and Stefano were dropped...elsewhere.”

Sebastian didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

“I wish I knew.” Philomena shook her head. “They are likely in another level of STEM. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say they were pulled into Theodore’s realm, considering all three of them fell into the crevice created by his power.”

“All right, well, how do we get there?” The worst of the panic and residual exhaustion from the past half hour had finally receded, leaving a restless energy that demanded Sebastian _move,_ especially now that he knew there was still an element of danger involved in Lily’s rescue.

“I do not know that, either.” Philomena admitted, though it seemed to pain her to do so. “Any time Stefano and I spoke to Theodore, he summoned us--we have never been able to simply _go_ there at will. My only suggestion is to return to City Hall, where the attack happened, and see if the crevice is still there.”

“I don’t have any better ideas, so I guess let’s start there.” Pushing himself back to his feet, Sebastian checked that all his weapons were still present, which, fortunately, they were. “Can you take us there?”

“I cannot take us directly to City Hall, no.” Philomena rolled her shoulders and twisted her lip. “I no longer have access to the Core’s power, so I have only my own to rely upon. I should be able to take us to the nearest manual exit from this realm, but from there, we will have to walk.”

“Fine.” Sebastian paused, internally sighed, and added, “And it’s not ‘the Core’, all right? Her name is Lily.”

Philomena paused in adjusting her coat to glance back up at him. Finally she nodded her head once and corrected herself, “Very well. I no longer have access to _Lily’s_ power. Shall we?”

Stepping up to Philomena’s side, Sebastian stiffened as she rested a hand on his shoulder, and in a burst of power, took them both away.

* * *

Everything fucking _hurt._

It wasn’t exactly a _new_ sensation for Darius, pain, but usually it was localized in one place that he could temporarily ignore in favor of whatever task took priority over his injury. At the moment, it felt like every one of his nerve endings was on fire, and even though he knew he was laying on something cold, maybe stone, it didn’t give him much relief.

_Come on, get your shit together. Get up, find out where the fuck you are, find the Core, and get the fuck out of here._

Step one, getting up, was easier said than done. The first time he tried to move one arm to brace himself with, a sharp pain shot up the limb all the way to the shoulder joint, and he couldn’t restrain a groan as the arm gave out and sent him back to the floor.

The pattering sound of bare feet on stone gave Darius some new urgency in case it turned out to be something hostile, and for a moment, he thought it was, when something touched his shoulder and he felt a surge of _something_ rush through him. It was power in its most raw and unleashed form, and it, too, was painful, but the pain began to fade almost instantly, replaced by a cool relief that made Darius unconsciously release a breath. Slightly more confident in his ability to move without agonizing pain, Darius pushed himself up with both arms until he could get his knees underneath him, and looked up--

\--into the blue-eyed, black-haired face of the Core.

_Well, step one’s half-complete, skipped step two for now, but step three is good, at least._

In hindsight, it made sense that her touch had that kind of power, but he hadn’t felt anything like that when carrying her earlier. Maybe it was the intent? Darius didn’t know, and didn’t have time to ask. He and the Core simply stared at one another for a long moment before she sniffled and said, “I thought you were...”

Reassurance wasn’t Darius’ strong point, especially when it came to reassuring kids, but he said, flatly, “Well, I’m not.”

She didn’t respond, but then Darius had a feeling the kid might be just a little overwhelmed with the current situation. She was still in the same clothes she’d been in earlier, not a spot of dirt on them, but from nowhere she’d seemingly conjured a quilt, very similar in appearance to the same one on her bed in the Valentini twins’ realm, which she’d wrapped around her shoulders. Under it, even from this angle, Darius could see her shaking.

With a sigh, Darius pushed himself up from the floor so he was upright, but still on his knees, taking in the surroundings. It looked like some kind of ancient catacomb, made of stone and lit only by torches on the walls. Practically medieval, yet somehow vaguely familiar.

Abruptly Darius was thrown back to his first conversation with Philomena, and her statement that Theodore’s power was growing, as well as the mental image of the wall of fire from their first encounter with her. Just beyond it had been a scene resembling this, and if that just wasn’t the icing on the fucking cake that today had turned into.

On the floor nearby was his rifle, and his knife was still attached to his belt. Picking the rifle up, he checked the magazine and ensured the safety was off before turning back to the Core. He hesitated. “Can you walk?”

Her bright blue eyes expanded to the size of miniature moons, and whether she’d been aware of the movement or not, she shuffled closer to him along with her quilt. Guess that answered that.

Glancing around for a replacement weapon he could fire one-handed, Darius rummaged around in a few crates before producing a pistol as well as a box of ammunition--it seemed coincidental, but, Darius reminded himself as he checked the pistol was loaded, there was no such thing as a complete coincidence inside STEM. He’d take the lucky break now and question why later.

“All right...” Darius trailed off in hesitation as he thought about how to address her--it felt somehow _wrong_ to call her ‘Core’ to her face, but her name still felt, in some weird way, too personal, “...kid, I still need both my hands, so we’re going to try piggyback first and see if that works. You know how to do that?”

She nodded, and Darius turned so his back was facing her, kneeling back on the ground. Tiny arms wrapped around his neck, and Darius carefully slipped his arms underneath her legs. It was awkward, even with a pistol, but it would leave his hands the most maneuverable, and it wasn’t like they had many other options. Once the Core was fully settled, Darius leaned forward enough to keep her balanced, and began to walk.

Down the only hallway out of the room they’d landed in was much of the same--catacomb-like tombs, some of which were rectangular holes cut into the stone wall, some of which were pits in the ground. Darius told himself it was only for safety’s sake he tried to keep the Core from seeing what lay within--he was already off-balance, the last thing he needed was to go pitching forward into some pit full of burnt-up bodies with the Core in tow.

Down several twisting hallways made of that same stone and lined with torches, Darius was forced to concede that, despite his above-average condition for a man of his age, as well as all the augmentations and infusions Mobius had given him over the years, he was a little stiff in the spine to be leaning forward for extended periods of time while carrying someone. Stopping at a relatively secluded room that was clear upon a moment’s brief inspection, Darius knelt, and the Core took the hint, slowly sliding free and sitting against the wall, wrapped in her quilt.

As Darius was checking his pistol and leaning against the wall himself to take his brief rest, her voice spoke again, “Mr. Archer? I have a question.”

Darius almost choked on his surprise. “Kid, you can ask me anything you want as long as you never, _ever_ call me ‘Mr. Archer’ again. Darius is fine.”

“Okay, Mr. Darius,” the Core shifted where she sat, and Darius internally prayed for strength from a god he didn’t believe in as she continued, “Was that really my dad?”

Pausing in checking his pistol, he set it down and turned more of his attention to the Core, who wasn’t looking at him. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her arms were wrapped around them. She wasn’t quite resting her forehead on her arms, but she was definitely looking like a kid who was overwhelmed by her current situation.

“Yeah.” Darius finally replied, figuring a short, simple answer was better. “Yeah, it was really him.”

The Core sniffled a little, then said, voice slightly more shaky, “They told me he was dead, but it looked like him, but I didn’t know, so I wanted to ask.” This time she looked up, and her eyes were a little watery, her lip quivering, but her gaze was firm, more piercing than a girl of her age should have been able to manage. “Are you one of my dad’s friends? I don’t remember you.”

Darius couldn’t quite stifle his snort of surprised amusement in time. “No, I’m not one of your dad’s friends. But I’m helping him.”

Fortunately she seemed to accept the explanation easily enough. Almost too easily, Darius thought, but then reminded himself that, despite everything she’d probably seen and been part of since she’d been taken from her home, somehow she was still trusting enough to take someone like _him_ at his word. He was damn sure no one else would’ve.

He didn’t know if it was that weird sense that he was somehow being dishonest to this completely guileless person simply by _existing_ or whatever the fuck else, but he found himself reaching out, slowly and cautiously, to rest his hand in the middle of the Core’s back and say, “You know, your dad didn’t know where you were the whole time you’ve been gone. I know they told you he was dead, but...” Darius trailed off, considered Castellanos’ near-unstoppable and occasionally _frustrating_ tenacity in hunting the Core--in hunting _Lily_ \--down, and finished, “...I know he’d have come for you sooner if he’d known.”

“I know.” Lily murmured, dropping her gaze again. “I wanna find him. I wanna get out of here.” Shaking her head, she began to shake again, and something all but forgotten in Darius’ chest clenched tight. Almost without thinking, he began to rub his hand up and down her back in what he hoped was a soothing motion. He vaguely remembered Toby doing shit like that for him whenever he’d woken up from nightmares before, decades ago now.

She didn’t seem uncomfortable with Darius’ touch, in fact she looked more reassured than she had since Darius had woken up here, but whether that was because of the touch or his words or just not being alone in a frightening place anymore was anyone’s guess. Leaning back and drawing his hand away, Darius rested the back of his head against the stone wall.

_Fuck._

He couldn’t hand her back to Mobius. There was no fucking way. He’d done a lot of awful shit in his life and told himself it was because he had no choice, told himself it mattered because it made Mobius happy with him, and that was all he cared about, because they’d given him a fucking chance and a fucking _life,_ but this, Darius knew he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the mirror again if he went through with the Administrator’s deal.

_Guess I’d just better fucking do my best to make sure Kidman’s plan goes off without a hitch._

Opening his eyes, Darius jumped and almost reached for his weapon again. The face in front of him, across the room, it shouldn’t have been possible, but--Darius reminded himself grimly--there were no coincidences in STEM.

Darius’ own face, at age seventeen, looked back at him, his eyes empty, face twisted into an all too familiar scowl of disgust. There were two bullet holes in his shirt, ringed with blood, and he was just as pale as he’d been on that cold winter morning Darius had gone to the coroner’s to identify his brother’s body. Like he hadn’t been kneeling beside the corpse all night, as soon as he had hit the sidewalk. Like he hadn’t been pried away by the police when they’d arrived to take Toby away for good.

Darius and his younger self looked at one another for a long moment. Lily didn’t seem able to see him, for which Darius thanked whatever power was looking out for him at the moment. Just as Darius was about to open his mouth--though what he planned on saying was anyone’s fucking guess--a different voice spoke, and the illusion was swept away like smoke.

_“So, the prodigal son returns to the fold at last.”_

That voice, Lily obviously _did_ hear, because her eyes widened and she shuffled closer to Darius again as he pulled his pistol free of its holster and disengaged the safety. “Who’s there?”

Even as he held his pistol at the ready, he knelt and held out one arm for Lily, who got up and came over to him obligingly. The piggyback carry just wasn’t going to work long-term, and with this pistol, he had ten rounds ready to fire. If they were in a situation where he needed more than ten bullets and _then_ needed to reload, they were probably fucked anyway. Hoisting Lily up against one hip, Darius held the pistol in the other and began to make his way slowly down the next hallway.

He hadn’t received a response to his perfectly valid question of who the fuck was talking to him, and Darius was about ready to call out again before the voice returned, echoing and reverberating down the stone hallways. _“I know you, Darius Archer, and I can help you.”_

“Yeah, I’ll just fucking bet,” Darius muttered, and caught Lily’s horrified expression out of the corner of his eye.

“My mom says you’re not supposed to swear,” she said in a stage whisper, looking for all intents and purposes like she expected her mother to appear from thin air and slap Darius on the wrist for his foul language.

Darius snorted and said, “I do a lot of things I’m not supposed to, kid. Figure swearing’s the least of my worries.” Pausing to worry his lip with his teeth to hide the smile that threatened to break free, Darius continued, “You wouldn’t tell on me, though, would you?”

If it was even possible, Lily’s eyes widened even further as she shook her head, and Darius couldn’t suppress the grin this time as it curved up his cheek. “Good kid.” Raising his voice to answer whoever the fuck was talking to him, Darius said, “Great, you know who _I_ am, still seems like I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here. Care to enlighten me?”

_“‘Enlightenment’. That is a topic I would very much like to discuss with you, Archer.”_

“If this is some pitch about how you’re going to save my soul, it’s a bit fucking late for that.”

_“It is only too late if you decide to reject the way of life you have pushed to the side for so long.”_

“Oh yeah?” Darius aimed around with his pistol as they entered a new room, but this one, too, was suspiciously empty, just like every other fucking room before it. It was making his skin crawl. “What’s that?”

_“You served for nearly two decades. Longer than any of your fellows. You succeeded where others failed, survived where others fell. You defied one of the greatest powers in this world, yet you so easily returned to them with only defiance as your motivation.”_

“Hey, I came back for one reason and one reason only: to keep what’s mine safe.” He was starting to feel a little ridiculous, talking to the empty air, but at least there was no one here to witness it aside from Lily, who could hear him just as well as Darius could. He’d obtained an important piece of information from the conversation so far, at least--even if it was only a confirmation of something he’d already suspected. Whoever he was dealing with, he had to be Mobius.

_“Indeed. Yet you have lost your path, lost your way. You will only find what you seek when you return fully to the fold, rather than standing on the brink, looking within.”_

“If you think I’d go back to Mobius after what they took from me--”

 _“Mobius_ gave _you everything, Darius Archer. They saved your life, gave you purpose. You served them loyally, became their most ruthless bloodhound. What have you spent the past three years doing? Running--like a dog loosed from its chain, unsure where to go. You need a flock to herd, and a shepherd to bring you to heel.”_

“Am I a bloodhound or a fucking sheepdog?” Darius bit out through his teeth, trying not to let his rage overpower him while he was still holding Lily, who was looking at him with growing concern. “Make up your damn mind.”

_“That is something only you can answer, Darius Archer--and truthfully, you already have. You have come back to those you claim to hate, willingly, and you follow their orders, even if only in your particular way.”_

“I’m no one’s fucking hound anymore, and if Mobius couldn’t _bring me to heel,_ then you sure as hell won’t be able to, either.” Darius snapped, agitation like boiling water in his chest, all but spitting with the force of it. “So take your ‘enlightenment’, and shove it down your fucking throat.”

There was a rumble in the air that might have been an amused chuckle. _“We shall see.”_

From the opposite side of the room, a stone wall that Darius had been sure was, in fact, a wall, began to ascend, and behind it were humanoid shapes, obscured by shadow. Darius raised his pistol on instinct, ready to fire, then faltered for a split second.

These weren’t the creatures he and Castellanos had seen in Union thus far. These were...they wore faces Darius _knew._

Overcoming his momentary shock to fire at the first shape-- _Private James Marshall, during Operation: Obsidian Mirror_ \--Darius had to abruptly recenter his thoughts to avoid being flung back on an unwanted journey down memory lane. Two more ran directly for him, and he had to take a brief, almost panicked step backwards so he could get enough distance to fire-- _Jesse Brandt from Operation: Blind Whirlwind and Yasemin Li from Operation: Poltergeist_ \--while turning so Lily was kept away from the worst of the carnage.

He only had seven bullets left, and a hell of a lot more than seven skeletons in his closet to deal with.

 _“Even now, you scarcely hesitate,"_ came the voice again, and Darius was _this_ close to fucking snapping, _“when they are people you know, people who wanted only to help you, to_ care _for you. You do not ask to parley, you do not ask forgiveness--you simply strike where you know you will be told, a hound ordered to kill.”_

“I don’t fucking hesitate because they’re already _dead._ They’re not real. There’s nothing to fucking _parley_ with.” Darius took the opportunity provided by the brief lull to set Lily on the ground and quickly shove three more rounds into his pistol’s magazine before slamming it home and picking Lily up again. “And it’s not like I care about their forgiveness. I can’t un-kill them. No point asking for something they can’t give.”

_“You are so close to the enlightenment you so easily reject, yet refuse to take that final step.”_

“What exactly about my willingness to kill fake images of ghosts has to do with me rejoining Mobius? I’m hanging on your every fucking word.”

 _“It is not the ghosts themselves that matter--it is your willingness to kill. What does it matter who is holding your chain, telling you who to set your sights upon next? You could return to the life you knew, the life you lived for nearly twenty years: your orders would be simple. Your life would be simple. Structured, and most importantly, it would_ matter _.”_

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Darius had learned a lot in his three and a half years or so on the run from Mobius. He had learned that living without them was terrifying. He had learned that in many ways, he didn’t know _how_ to live without them. They had been his life for seventeen years, and outside of it, he had nothing. It would undoubtedly be easier to go back, to live the life that he knew so very well. Too well, in all honesty.

Yet it was precisely _because_ the idea seemed easier that Darius knew it was not the right decision. Life without Mobius for the past three years _had_ been hard, and many times he’d thought he’d regret leaving them, but in the end, he never did, not really. He had slowly seen a world outside of his missions, even if it wasn’t exactly a vacation since Mobius _was_ still on his ass most of that time, but it was new and different in a way he couldn’t necessarily define.

He just felt more...himself. Whatever the fuck that meant anymore.

“What I do matters regardless of what you or anyone else thinks of it.” Darius finally said, well aware he’d been silent for the better part of a few minutes while thinking. “I gave seventeen years of my life to Mobius, and there’s no point in regretting them now, but I can still fucking decide that they’re years I don’t want to repeat. So, I’ll say it again: take your ‘enlightenment’, and shove it down your _fucking throat.”_

This time the noise that Darius heard echoing down the hallway was more like a disappointed _hmm,_ followed by, _“Disappointing, but I still believe you can be folded back into the flock, with time. And when you return, you will bring me the Core willingly.”_

“Over my dead fucking body,” Darius muttered as he turned and returned back down the hallway they’d come from originally.

Lily was tightly clutching his shoulder, all but forgotten until now, but she quietly asked, “Mr. Darius? Do you work for the people who made this?”

 _Fuck._ “I used to, for a long time. But I left because...” Darius hesitated, trying to structure a response that would both satisfy Lily while remaining vague enough not to give away too much, “...because they hurt someone that I...care about.”

“But you came back?”

Chewing his lip, Darius debated just how much he could stretch the truth on this one. “I came back to make sure they couldn’t hurt anyone I care about again.”

It was the truth--well, partial truth--and Lily seemed to accept it without further questioning, but Darius still felt a stab of uncharacteristic guilt anyway. He figured telling her that he was here to put Mobius in the ground for good after stealing so many things away from him probably wasn’t a child-friendly approach to the situation.

“Do you know where we are?” Darius asked suddenly, not sure why he didn’t think about it earlier. “You have the whole map of Union, don’t you? Isn’t this on it?”

Lily was shaking her head already, and Darius’ hopes fell. “No. I can’t see anything outside a few of the halls we’ve been in.”

“There goes my idea of having you GPS us out of here,” Darius muttered, and Lily smiled, even if he didn’t think he’d said anything particularly funny. “Guess we just keep going, then.”

Somehow the hallways seemed different. Still creepy, _really_ fucking creepy, but the light that had seemed neutral or ambivalent before seemed more hostile now, throwing harsher shadows. Darius found himself checking the corners before going around them, and sorely wished he had a hand free to hold his flashlight.

Wait. “Kid--I have a mission for you.”

Lily perked up almost immediately at the promise of a mission. “What is it?”

Shifting Lily up enough that Darius could reach the flashlight on his belt, he clicked it on and handed it to her. “Keep that pointed straight ahead so we can see what’s in front of us, yeah? Might be something in the shadows we can’t see.”

Lily nodded, an expression of utter concentration on her face that said she was taking this as seriously as any kid given a mission by an adult could. Holding the flashlight in both hands, she balanced her elbow on Darius’ shoulder as he walked, and it _was_ much easier to see with the light.

“Make sure to keep that aimed right in front of us, okay? And tell me if you get tired.” He liked having the light, after having spent most of his career stumbling in the dark and knowing the value in seeing what lay beneath, but he could live without it if necessary. “Now let’s look for a way out of here.”

* * *

When Philomena pushed open the double doors that she claimed would lead out of her and Stefano’s realm and into Union proper, Sebastian hadn’t quite known what to expect.

The only time he’d traveled between realms in this world had been through his mirrors, and then in the Marrow, but those had been noticeable shifts, with obvious differences in the environment. When Philomena laid her hands on the doors and shoved them open, there was a brief flash of white light, like a camera flash, and then Sebastian found his feet landing on concrete sidewalks.

They’d seemingly emerged from a building in a sector Sebastian wasn’t familiar with yet, but Philomena walked confidently down the road, and obviously knew where she was going. “I’m not seeing City Hall around here,” he felt it was worth pointing out.

“No, but this is the closest place I can gather my wits enough to phase us there, once my strength has returned.” Philomena spared a fleeting glance at him as she replied, but continued moving at a brisk walk. “If you wish to speak to your people on the outside, now might be a good time to do so.”

Sebastian reached for his communicator, then was struck by the memory of Philomena taking it from him earlier to speak to Kidman. “What did you tell them? Back in your studio?”

“The truth--that we needed a plan for getting our lost people back. Your contact on the outside--Kidman, I believe?--had no immediate ideas, but did ask you to check in when you could.” Philomena began to hum, and Sebastian found himself straining to hear before shaking himself out of it. “I will keep the masses at bay in the meanwhile.”

Sebastian dedicated a few more seconds to listening to Philomena hum, watching a few of the creatures he and Archer had encountered previously turn away as if making a conscious effort not to notice their presence, before returning his attention to the communicator.

Kidman picked up on the first ring. “Sebastian?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Sebastian winced. “We’re...in a bit of a mess in here.”

“I know. I briefly spoke to Philomena Valentini, but--is it true? You saw Lily, but now she, Archer, and Stefano Valentini are gone?”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Sebastian managed, “Yeah. Unfortunately. We haven’t heard from any of them yet. What about on your end?”

“Nothing here either. I was hoping _you’d_ heard something,” Kidman admitted. “Archer’s been out of contact for almost a half hour now, and I’ve lost transmission on his vital signs, too. If he’s alive, he’s somewhere in STEM that our monitoring equipment doesn’t reach.”

Something cold and tight clenched in Sebastian’s chest. They hadn’t been able to track Lily from the beginning, which was another stupid, overconfident oversight of Mobius’, but not being able to track Archer, the only one of the three who _could_ be tracked by Mobius equipment, didn’t inspire much confidence in his fate. That meant Lily could be somewhere in STEM, lost, alone--

He shook himself out of the thought and tried to refocus. He and Archer had known from experience that being in specific realms of STEM separated them from Mobius surveillance, so there was a chance they’d simply been pulled into another part of STEM that Mobius couldn’t see. There was a chance they were fine, and trying to find their way back.

It smacked of naive optimism, but better that than letting himself spiral down into the worst-case.

“I’ll keep my channel open and let you know if they make contact.” Sebastian finally said.

“And I’ll do the same from here. One last thing--are you and the Valentini siblings working together now?”

“Apparently.” Sebastian hadn’t exactly had time to ask Archer what the hell he’d been thinking making this kind of deal before he’d plunged into some unknown place in STEM, but he was sure thinking it now. Philomena might have given Sebastian a decent reason to work together--a mutual goal--but she had also taken part in the kidnapping of his daughter in the first place, and her trustworthiness wasn’t exactly a sure deal. “It wasn’t my decision.”

“All the same, just be careful. You may be able to work together temporarily, but they’ve proven themselves dangerous.”

“Don’t have to remind me.” Sebastian cast a look over at Philomena, who was still humming her tune several paces ahead of him. She walked past one of Union’s creatures, close enough she had to turn to the side to avoid brushing it, and Sebastian did the same, suppressing a shiver as he passed, but the creature gave no indication it’d even known he was there. “Let me know if anything changes, Kidman.”

“Will do.”

As soon as the last burst of static faded, Sebastian clipped his communicator back to his belt and lengthened his stride to catch up with Philomena. Her humming began to wind down, and then faded entirely. She opened her eyes, and Sebastian belatedly realized she must have had them closed the entire time they’d been walking, though she’d easily avoided several obstacles in their immediate path. “Well?” She asked once she straightened her shoulders.

“Kidman didn’t have anything new for me, but...” Sebastian hesitated, wondering how she might take the news that her brother was potentially already dead, “...she said that if Archer is alive, he’s probably lost in an unknown part of STEM. He’s the only one she can actually monitor from the outside.”

If Philomena was affected by this news, she didn’t show it--her face remained a stony mask, all but carved of marble and just as pale. “That does not surprise me. Mine and Stefano’s realm is inaccessible to any sensors within this world--it would not be much of a stretch to assume any ‘pocket’ of this space could be seen from the outside, either.”

Silence fell, but it was tense and uncomfortable, heavy with the fact that neither of them were really in favor of this arrangement but having no other options for the moment. There were things Sebastian could ask, even accuse, given their brief and antagonistic history, but they wouldn’t help here.

He never thought he would _miss_ Archer’s presence at his right, but there it was. No matter how untrustworthy he might be, at least he hadn’t tried to _kill_ Sebastian just yet.

There _was_ something Sebastian could ask Philomena, however, which would hopefully not spark an argument. “Can I ask you how your...powers work? The music and all that?”

Philomena didn’t noticeably brighten, but some of the hard angles of her face softened just slightly. “It is a form of...manipulation, I suppose is the simplest way to describe it. Music, even in the real world, can invoke emotions and reactions in people. With Lily’s power...” Philomena paused, as if waiting to see how Sebastian would react, but short of a brief tensing in his jaw, he remained silent, “...I was able to...delve deeper into those reactions. To make people--creatures, mainly, since _you_ were the first living person I successfully charmed--obey my will.”

“But how does it...work?”

Philomena’s gaze turned distant for a moment as she considered. “It is difficult to explain. When I sing, it is mostly nonsense, or tunes that I composed either in my idle youth or occasionally more recent work. What matters more is the _intent_ behind it, I think.”

“And it works on everything in here?”

“As far as I am aware, yes.” Philomena lifted her shoulders in a light shrug that seemed too casual for her typical demeanor. “Though without Lily’s power augmenting my abilities, I am unsure how much sway I still have. I suppose we shall see.”

When they reached an intersection of what remained of the streets, Sebastian’s communicator chimed with the appearance of another resonance. Carefully sweeping his communicator around, he locked on to what looked like a diner across the way. “We should check that out. I’ve found useful things at a lot of them.”

“Very well. It’s on our way, after all.” Philomena turned her feet towards the diner, and began to hum for a few seconds; the creatures wandering nearby turned their backs and let the pair approach unobstructed. “May I ask you a few questions?”

Instinctively, Sebastian raised his guard. “What about?”

“This world.” Philomena gestured at Union around them, as well as whatever else was in this space. “As I said, we are aware it is not the real world, but...what is it?”

“You might’ve heard me mention STEM before,” Sebastian began with a sigh, slowly recalling all the facts he knew about the system, which was to say, not a lot, but hopefully enough for the average layperson, “and that’s the machine that...creates this world. The person at the center, the Core, has the most conscious influence, but as you’ve seen, other people can be taught to have influence over it, too. Other people’s minds are linked to it wirelessly, and everyone contributes something.”

“If only our minds are technically within this realm, where are our physical bodies?”

“Beats me.” Sebastian shrugged. “Probably somewhere in this Mobius facility--Mobius is the organization that co-opted this technology for their own use.”

The conversation fizzled out as they approached the diner, to be replaced by a restless, tense energy. Something within the diner crashed, or fell over, and Sebastian reached for his pistol, checking it was ready to fire. Glancing back at Philomena, more out of habit from his detective years than anything else, he nonetheless waited for her to nod in confirmation of readiness before pushing the door open.

Nothing moved within--the whole diner was in disarray, so there was no telling what had caused the most recent clatter. Bar stools were tipped over or across the room, there was various garbage and detritus scattered around and within the booths, and even more behind the bar itself. Sebastian slowly made a full loop around the diner’s main room, Philomena at his back, and the silence was thick enough to be cut with a blade.

Abruptly, the jukebox in the corner of the room began to play, and almost in perfect sync, he and Philomena raised weapons towards it before identifying the noise as harmless diner music. When they laughed, it was more a release of tension than anything else, but it was still somehow nice. Sebastian’s eye was drawn instead towards the weapon in Philomena’s hand, and his eyes involuntarily widened.

“Is that a magnum?” He pointed at the weapon despite being almost certain that was exactly what it was. “Do you...know how to...?”

The look she gave him in return was withering, but not offended. “If I did not know how to use it, I would not be carrying it. Music is all well and good as a tool in this world, but in the heat of the moment I cannot always expect to have time for a serenade.”

“Fair enough.” Holstering his own pistol, Sebastian moved across the room, where the jukebox was still playing. “Better turn this off in case it draws attention.”

As he moved towards the jukebox, however, the music began to distort until it became nothing but discordant nonsense, and just as Sebastian reached one cautious hand out for the machine’s control pad, the atmosphere plummeted in temperature, and the ghost woman erupted from it with a screeching cackle, the same from the Union house.

Operating on nothing but blind terror and instinct, Sebastian scrambled back to his feet and took to his heels, shoving the diner doors open with his shoulder in the frantic rush of it all. He was dimly aware of the hurried _clack-clack_ of high heels on concrete, and assumed that meant Philomena was also nearby.

Instead of standing on Union’s streets, however, Sebastian found himself in another hallway after shoving the diner doors open...a hallway that looked almost uncannily, painfully familiar.

Coming to a sudden halt in the only room at the end of the hall, he looked frantically around for a hiding place, and dove behind the nearby counter. Movement at his back made Sebastian wheel around, ready to reach for his pistol, before identifying Philomena, who was all but Sebastian’s mirror image in that moment--breathless with exertion and fear, eyes wide and frantic as they darted about the room, legs trembling where they held her up in a relatively steady crouch behind the counter.

In the haze of terror, he _was_ struck by one idea. “Did you make that thing?” He hissed just as the doors flew open and the ghost woman drifted in, singing her haunting song. It was nothing at all like Philomena’s music had felt, but the commonality was worth investigating.

Philomena looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second, stupider head. “No, I did not, thank you,” she shot back, full of venom as her gaze, too, landed on the ghost before falling away with a shiver, “because if I _had,_ I would hardly have been sprinting away from it, now would I?”

They watched in silence, then, as the ghost pushed against a nearby mirror, mounted on the wall, and disappeared...within?

“What is it doing?” Sebastian asked under his breath, more to himself, and Philomena had nothing to contribute in answer anyway. Only after she was gone, at least for the moment, did Sebastian allow himself to release a breath, if not relax completely.

“Where are we?” Philomena looked around the odd environment with her keen gaze, but there was nothing aside from confusion to read from her at the moment. “It looks almost like a hospital. Albeit a very old one.”

“It is.” Sebastian replied flatly, suddenly understanding Archer’s reluctance to talk about whatever he’d been seeing in his own vision. “Beacon Mental Hospital. I thought...I can’t be back here. Not really. This is just...” He shook his head, thoughts spinning a mile a minute. “We need to get out of here.”

“I gathered that.” Philomena’s gaze drifted back towards the mirror. “Though I get the feeling that will be easier said than done. Have you encountered this...apparition before?”

“Once.” Sebastian didn’t know what else he could say about that time other than the fact it had clearly hit at something in Archer’s core deeply enough to shake his easy confidence, or at least the appearance of it. “We got out through a set of doors, but we couldn’t tell which ones would lead us there.”

“Well, seeing as there is only _one_ other door thus far, aside from the one we entered from, I suggest we go through it and see what happens.” Glancing over her shoulder at the hallway they came from, Philomena walked over and pushed at the door experimentally, but it refused to budge. Shaking her head, she joined Sebastian at the other door, continuing to look over her shoulder and through the mirror.

The next corridor was just as long as the first, and led to a single room, this time with several doors, four to be exact, leading elsewhere. There was some piece of equipment in the center of the room, surrounded by four beds, which all seemed to point at the different doors. On the other side of the room was a mirror, and Sebastian was hesitant to approach it after seeing the ghost disappear into one, but something drew him there anyway.

As he got closer, he realized his reflection was subtly different--his hair was combed slightly neater, his beard more shaven, and...and he was in the same outfit he’d been in during Beacon, with his waistcoat and dress shirt and tie. Instinctively he looked down at himself and, to his own eyes, it looked like he was still in his original clothes, so he chalked it up to another oddity of the vision.

The all-too-familiar sound of the ghost’s singing snapped Sebastian out of his thoughtful trance, and he whipped around to search for its source, but saw nothing, so he turned back to the mirror...and saw her approaching _Philomena._

Opening his mouth to call out a warning, the ghost’s arms suddenly lunged through the mirror and grabbed Philomena by the shoulders, yanking her back through the mirror before disappearing. Though Philomena was temporarily out of Sebastian’s line of sight, he heard a groan and assumed she was still alive. When she pulled herself to her feet, though, he saw a change in her as well.

Gone was the tailored leather jacket and smooth, slicked-back ebony hair. In its place was a gray, ratty, button-down denim jacket over a dirty, faded t-shirt. There were dark bags under her now-bloodshot eyes, and her cheekbones were sharper, too sharp in fact. Everything she wore hung loosely on her frame, and even from here Sebastian could see a tremor in her hands.

“You look...different,” he offered, unsure what else to say as Philomena shook her head and rubbed her face in one hand. “Like--I mean...you have a gray jacket, and you look...tired.”

Philomena’s hand froze on her face before she gradually took it away, then pulled up her sleeve to look at her wrist, turning so she was out of Sebastian’s sight. “My God...” she whispered, sounding almost gutted, a far cry from the cool, detached Philomena that Sebastian had seen so far. She turned her back to the mirror entirely, and was apparently seeing something beyond it that Sebastian couldn’t--instead of the room at his back, the ‘mirror’ now showed him nothing but shadow, and Philomena. When she turned back, there was a horror on her face that sent a shiver down Sebastian’s spine.

Once again came the sound of singing, and Philomena jerked her head around. “It’s coming,” she said before he could ask, “and I think it is on...my side, or whatever passes for it. Save yourself, and I will do the same.” Turning, she took off at a dead sprint, and Sebastian followed suit, unsure what else to do or where to go. He picked one of the four doors at random, crashing through it and into a short hallway with double doors at the end.

When he shoved through them, though, he found himself back in the first room...as did Philomena, apparently, as she stopped in front of the same mirror/window with a look of confusion on her face. This time, though, Sebastian could see what Philomena was likely seeing--four doors, just like his side, but these were old, metal, like warehouse doors.

One of them was lit from behind, a tiny sliver of light from under the door that Sebastian could just barely see. “Is that door lit up behind you?”

Turning to look, Philomena answered, “No, all four are dark. Do you see a light from one of them?”

“Yeah, the one on the left, closest to the hallway.”

Facing the mirror/window again, Philomena frowned and said, “It appears...it appears as though the last door on the right has a light behind it as well. I assume it is dark on your side.”

“Do you think we should try and go through them?”

“I think we should try anything, at this point.” There was a wary, desperate look in Philomena’s eye that was vaguely similar to the look Archer had worn in his own vision. “I do not hear the ghost’s singing anymore, so it is possible it has come to your ‘side’, as it is.”

“Great.” A hint of sarcasm crept into Sebastian’s tone as he turned towards the door Philomena had said was lit from her side. “Really looking forward to running into it again.”

There was a muffled snort of amusement from the other side of the mirror, and then the sound of receding footsteps. Pushing through his own door, Sebastian found himself in another hallway, and almost groaned aloud in frustration before realizing the room beyond was different. This room was also scattered with various pieces of old, outdated medical equipment, but this arrangement was far more disorganized, like they’d simply been abandoned here long ago and no one had seen fit to sort them.

At the other side of the room was another mirror, and Sebastian prepared to approach it before he caught a glimpse of the ghost woman on the other side, and instead he slipped behind, then under, one of the old bunks. Glancing briefly back up at the mirror, he saw Philomena watching from the other side. Silently, she pointed directly where Sebastian had come from, and when he turned, he saw four doors, again, in an identical arrangement to the first room.

Slipping out of sight again, the ghost woman drifted past, singing her song, and when she was gone, Philomena returned, holding one hand up in the shape of an ‘L’, before holding up two fingers. Sebastian frowned as he attempted to decipher what Philomena was telling him, but it clicked a split second later: _the door second from the left._

In his current position, Sebastian couldn’t see which door was backlit on Philomena’s side. If he wanted a better vantage point, he would have to move, but the ghost was unpredictable in her path, and if she spotted him...

Well, Philomena had taken the risk for him--it would feel wrong to not do the same for her.

When it seemed like the ghost was furthest away from his hiding spot, Sebastian wriggled out from under the bed and leaned far enough up that he could see half of the doors on Philomena’s side of the mirror. Unfortunately, both of them were dark, which meant it had to be one on the other side, out of Sebastian’s sight from here. He would have to move again to determine which one.

Darting behind a piece of machinery, Sebastian carefully climbed over one of the other bunks when the ghost began to move again, and could see now that Philomena needed to go through the first door from the right. Making an ‘R’ with his hands was easier said than done, and a hint of amusement fluttered across Philomena’s face as he stumbled through the attempt, but in the end, it was accomplished, and he held up one finger after, hoping she got the same message she had originally given him. _First door on the right._

With a quick, decisive nod, Philomena turned for her door, and Sebastian inched closer to his. Unexpectedly, the ghost woman wheeled around, and Sebastian was forced to scramble for the nearest hiding spot, underneath another bunk, before she saw him. Her shambling footsteps drew closer...closer... _closer,_ close enough that Sebastian could see the environment around him flickering with static distortion, feel his head begin to throb with a low-level headache.

Her footsteps stopped, and Sebastian didn’t dare breathe.

The sound of singing, different from the ghost’s, broke the trance, and Sebastian recognized it almost immediately as Philomena’s voice. It didn’t seem to have an immediate effect on the ghost, but she screeched and fluttered away from Sebastian’s hiding spot in the blink of an eye, lurching towards the mirror. Pushing himself free, Sebastian turned to sprint in the direction of the door that--hopefully--led to freedom, and had to stop himself from looking back to see if Philomena had managed to do the same.

Crashing through the double doors at the end of the hall, Sebastian found himself back in the diner, and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The _clack-clack_ sound of heels on tile made him look up to see Philomena shoving something out of one of the diner booths before collapsing into it, just as breathless as he was.

The rhythm of Philomena’s breathing began to change, however, and it took Sebastian a long moment to realize she was _laughing._ It was a laugh of relief and release, far more so than the brief chuckle they’d shared earlier had been, and Sebastian found himself joining in. There was just something about this situation--not _funny,_ but definitely ridiculous--that made being here, in this diner in a crumbling world, somehow feel like a respite _._

Eventually their adrenaline-fueled laughter wound down, and silence reigned again, but this silence was easier. They continued to catch their breath, and Sebastian dragged himself over to the other side of the booth, shoving the clutter aside before dropping himself into it.

Across the room, there was a crackle of static, and the jukebox began to play again. Without missing a beat, Philomena reached into her jacket, produced her magnum, and fired a single shot into it. It spat out one more garbled attempt at music before falling silent. “I think,” she said as she rose slowly back to her feet, Sebastian right behind her, “I am well and truly done with that jukebox.”

“Won’t hear any argument from me,” Sebastian replied as he pushed the diner doors open, this time leading back to the streets.

“I believe I am ready to attempt phasing to City Hall, if you are ready to go.” Philomena rolled her shoulders as she spoke, clearly getting ready for whatever energy she was about to expend. “All we need is to find a spot where I have a line of sight on it.”

“I can see the...island, I guess, that it’s on, but not the building itself.” Sebastian pointed at the building just ahead. “But if we go around that, we should be able to see it.”

“Very well.” Resting one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder before he could respond--or protest--Philomena phased them to the nearest corner of the building, walking briskly around it as Sebastian stumbled on the landing.

Quickly recovering, Sebastian caught up with Philomena and saw her gaze turn upwards, towards City Hall, which was now in prominent view. Releasing a breath, she nodded once, decisively, almost to herself, Sebastian thought.

“Ready?” He asked, checking his weapons were in their proper places one last time.

In response, Philomena reached out again, there was a brief flash of blue--

\--and the scene before them changed from the diner area to City Hall once again, looking much the same as it had the last time they’d been there. Two massive cracks in the ground were the only remaining evidence of the altercation, one oozing that same odd, white substance, the other looking fairly normal except for the half-melted tar surrounding the edges.

Philomena approached the crevice with the white substance around it first, gingerly dipping the toe of her high-heeled boot into it before withdrawing it, and shaking the slimy stuff off of it. “I haven’t the faintest idea what this is,” she gestured to the substance as she turned and made for the other crevice, “but whatever it is...it’s fucking disgusting.”

Though it had seemed like Philomena had been working up to a genuine observation, the statement that came out of her mouth instead made Sebastian snort with amusement before he could think to swallow the noise. “That your official conclusion?”

Philomena’s nose wrinkled and her lip curled. “That is the only observation that matters at this juncture. I can only imagine the nightmare it would be to get it out of clothing.” Turning back towards the other crevice, she continued, “I cannot see the bottom of this place, which means I cannot phase us into it.”

“So we just...jump?” Sebastian had fallen distances in STEM that should have been lethal many times and survived--more often in Beacon than here--but that didn’t make him enthusiastic to repeat the experience.

“Unless you have another suggestion?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t.” Sebastian peered warily into the chasm. With effort, he shook off whatever hesitation he had. Lily was somewhere in there, by all indications, and that meant he was going in.

Just as he was about to take the step off, Philomena said, “Wait,” and when he turned around, she gestured at the flashlight on Sebastian’s belt, “turn that on before we jump. If it illuminates anything close to the bottom, and I can see it, I can phase us without having to land the... _natural_ way.”

“That would be nice.” Sebastian admitted, turning the flashlight on and angling it so it pointed down, though who knew how far the beam would reach in darkness as deep as this. “Let’s go.”

Before he could get cold feet, Sebastian stepped off the ledge, and disappeared into the abyss.


	7. Agonist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks--this might be the last chapter i can post on-schedule for a while depending on how much i can work on chapter 8 this week. i didn't have a ton of time this weekend to write, and that's usually my most productive time period, but we'll see how much i get done this week as long as work doesn't drain me too much.

_noun: a person who is torn by inner conflict_

* * *

Darius was beginning to think these catacombs went on for-fucking- _ever._

Lily had gotten tired of holding the flashlight after what might have been twenty minutes or two hours, since apparently time down here was fucking weird, along with everything else. She’d taken a break for about ten minutes before taking the flashlight again, and they’d proceeded in that cycle at least three more times before Darius sighed and stopped at the next room they found themselves in, comparatively less macabre than a lot of the others so far. “All right, we need another plan. This one isn’t working.”

He wasn’t really sure why he’d said that aloud to Lily when the odds _she_ would have an actionable plan were slim to none, but it made him feel a little better if it didn’t seem like he was just talking to himself. Nonetheless, Lily got a scrunched-up, thoughtful look on her face as Darius set her down on the floor to stretch his arm and give it a break. Lily was about as heavy as he’d expect a five-year-old to be, which was to say, not very, but he’d still been carting her--and her quilt, since she refused to be parted from it--around for a considerable length of time.

Dropping himself against the wall with a deep sigh, Darius began to run through their options. They’d been wandering for some indeterminate amount of time and had gotten exactly fucking nowhere. He was beginning to think they _weren’t_ going to get anywhere until some condition was met. If this place was Theodore’s realm, as Darius strongly suspected, he could theoretically keep conjuring endless hallways for Darius and Lily to get lost in indefinitely. They weren’t going to find their way out with sheer determination. Their adversary could outlast them.

That meant finding a way to satisfy whatever condition or obstacle was keeping them here, or finding a way to overcome it. Darius was more the ‘overcome’ type versus ‘satisfy’, but he was trying to keep his options open.

One thing he hadn’t tried yet was exerting any influence over this realm like he had in the artist twins’ studio, but part of him was wary of doing so when he didn’t know whether it would send the equivalent of a signal flare up to anyone who might be watching them. Still, it wasn’t like he had any better ideas for the moment.

It was difficult to explain the process by which one could seize control of any aspect of a STEM system. It had been different in Ruben’s because Ruben had _invited_ him within, shown him the tools and how to use them. This system was not so specialized, not wired to only function with one person’s neural patterns--which, Darius reflected, might have actually helped Mobius not end up in this situation to begin with, ironically--but that meant Darius didn’t know how much power he actually _had_ here. A lot, according to Philomena, but so far he hadn’t really seen any tangible evidence of that, aside from being immune to her music and being able to leave her brother’s light prisms.

Experimentally, Darius closed his eyes and tried to will _something_ to happen. Anything. Somehow, he was disappointed when nothing, in fact, came of it.

The soft patter of feet on stone approached, and Lily asked in a whisper, “Mr. Darius, are you sleeping?”

He couldn’t help the snort of amusement. “No. Sure wish I was, though.” Opening his eyes, he said, “What’ve you got, kid?”

In her hands was a piece of cloth, textured and patterned and looking _very_ out of place in this stony, unforgiving dungeon. It was, somehow, vaguely familiar. “I found it,” Lily announced, pointing at whatever corner of the room she’d apparently dug this up from. “I thought I’d seen it before, so I picked it up.”

Reaching out to take it, Darius turned the cloth over in his hands, dusted with a thin layer of dirt and grime, and deduced it was some kind of scarf. Maybe from one of the poor bastards whose bodies they kept seeing in these pits?

No. It was fine in quality, above the norm for what would probably belong to the average Union citizen. This was something different. Lifting the scarf up to smell it, Darius caught hints of something sweet and vaguely spicy, the type of smell that fancy cologne brands would call ‘earthy’, maybe. It, too, seemed weirdly familiar.

More out of some unnameable instinct than anything else, Darius exerted some of his will onto the familiarity of the scents and the sights and the texture of the scarf in his hands, and was flung into a vision...from someone else’s eyes.

Or _eye,_ as it was.

Darius saw the same kinds of rooms he and Lily had been wandering around in for however long they’d been here, felt the rush of urgent breaths being drawn in and expelled. He saw... _new_ creatures, different from the ones he and Castellanos had encountered so far. These looked as though they’d been formed out of magma, flames wreathing their bodies in a deadly halo. A pair of gloved hands raised up in Darius’ line of sight, holding a camera, and with a flash, two of the creatures were trapped in a prism of light. The scene abruptly changed, and Darius got the impression he’d just used that handy phasing trick to get some distance.

Thrust back into his own awareness, Darius shook his head as it throbbed with a low-level headache. “This is Stefano’s,” he said, holding the scarf up. Lily’s eyes widened, and she looked more apprehensive just at the mention of his name. Darius figured that was probably fair--he wouldn’t be thrilled to know he’d just found something belonging to one of _his_ kidnappers--but apparently they were supposed to be working together, even if Stefano hadn’t seemed particularly thrilled with the idea.

Lily was already shaking her head and sitting against the wall, knees folded up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. “What if they try and take me back to the studio? I don’t want to go back there.”

“Then you won’t.” Darius shrugged, shoving down the annoying and frankly _ridiculous_ burst of protectiveness that lit up his chest. There was zero reason to care about that possibility except in that it would basically make their mission--getting the Core out of here--about ten times harder. “I know you don’t trust them. I don’t trust them either. But if we’re going to get you back to your dad, we might need their help.”

Lily was still silent for a long moment, and Darius let her chew it over. He didn’t think he ought to mention the possibility that they might not ever get out of here in the first place, never mind find wherever the hell Castellanos had got to. _One step at a time, Archer._

“Okay,” Lily finally said, a little quieter than normal, and when she looked back up at Darius her gaze was far more calm and even than a girl of five--ten, technically, he supposed--should have been able to manage, “I guess if they’re helping, that’s all right.”

“And if they _don’t_ help,” Darius found himself saying, lip curling, “then _I’ll_ take care of it.”

Lily’s smile was relieved, and trusting, and it punched Darius directly in the solar fucking plexus. “Okay,” she said again, and sounded more sure of it.

“Now let’s see how we can use this to _find_ him,” Darius mused as he stood up, still holding the scarf, and exerted a different kind of will on it. He’d been Mobius’ bloodhound for a long time, surely that meant he had a way of tracking someone inside a STEM system, too.

At first, nothing happened, and Darius scowled. Leaning down, he picked Lily up in one arm absently, and she reached out to touch the scarf as well with what was probably supposed to be an imitation of Darius’ scowl on her face.

As soon as she touched the scarf, however, there was a jolt of energy that ran through Darius’ body like a live wire, setting his nerves buzzing with an almost uncomfortable intensity. Once the feeling began to recede, Darius let out a breath and felt oddly compelled to go back the way they’d come. “I think...” Lily whispered, closing her eyes, then lifted her free hand and pointed back down the hallway, “...that way.”

“You sure?” Darius sure as hell wasn’t, but it was worth double-checking. He wasn’t exactly in the habit of being guided around by children--even if they did happen to be the Core of a STEM system.

“I think so.” Lily frowned and touched the scarf again. “I just feel like it’s that way.”

“Then that’s the way we’re going.” Darius hefted Lily more securely against his side before continuing, leaving the scarf in her hands so he could hold his pistol. He hadn’t encountered any more of the creatures since the last time he’d spoken to whoever was keeping tabs on them here--the shadows of Darius’ past or the fiery ones Stefano had apparently seen--but that didn’t mean they weren’t around somewhere.

 _“So easily you channel her power,”_ Well, speak of the devil, there was their unwelcome observer now, _“bringing yourself ever closer to the fold. How do you think your companion will feel about you using his daughter as so many others in this world have?”_

“News-fucking-flash, I didn’t _ask_ her to, she did it herself,” Darius instinctively raised his guard, “and I have my own power to rely on here.”

_“Indeed, you do--you are accustomed to such power, aren’t you? To feeling as though you never need to rely on others. For aid, for guidance, it does not matter to you.”_

Tightening his jaw to avoid completely losing his temper, Darius let out a deep breath and continued to walk, determined to put the voice out of his notice. Lily, for her part, had begun to clutch his shoulder tighter as soon as the voice began to speak, and even now her grip didn’t relax even a little.

 _“It is your power which makes you dangerous, but your commitment to total independence that dooms you.”_ The voice continued, apparently missing the fucking memo that Darius wasn’t paying attention anymore. _“Alone, you are directionless, lost--”_

“Lost, yes, but only because _someone_ keeps making endless fucking hallways for us to wander around in. Directionless, no, because I know where we’re going--”

_“Yes, towards one you once felt was your enemy, someone who also seized the Core’s power for himself. His ego dooms him as your independence dooms you--the temptation of the Core will be too much to resist.”_

“Guess I’ll deal with that if or when it becomes a problem.” The buzzing in Darius’ nerves got stronger, and as he turned around a corner, into another room with a metal door, he was almost a hundred percent certain that Stefano was either behind it, or in another room nearby. “Now piss off, we’re busy here.”

Without waiting for a potential reply, Darius rested the barrel of his pistol against the door and gently pushed, opening it a crack. He faced no resistance, so he pushed it open a little further and peered within, still behind the doorframe and keeping Lily shielded behind it as well. It was dark, lit with a few of the candles Darius was beginning to recognize as a mark of this realm’s influence, and just the same as every other fucking room they’d come across so far. More importantly, though, there was no obvious sign of Stefano.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, Darius pushed the door all the way open and strode within--before freezing.

It hadn’t been his choice, but he could recognize the distortion around him in a cube shape, and knew immediately what had happened. Rolling his eyes, he reached deep for another pinch of willpower and managed to mutter through his teeth, “We really doing this whole fucking song and dance again, or should I just skip to the part where I jump out of your box in strangling range?”

The sound of fancy, expensive dress shoes on stone moved behind Darius, a slow and steady pace, until Stefano came within his line of sight. He wasn’t holding his knife this time, thankfully, just his camera, but it was still kind of annoying. Lily was still and silent in his arms, looking at Stefano with a wide-eyed terror. They weighed the other up for a long moment before Stefano began to move again, wariness in every subtle motion. “If you intended to kill me,” he began, “you ought to know that you have lost the element of surprise in doing so. I am well aware of what took place the last time we faced each other this way. Thus, I can only conclude that you are not here to kill me. Not yet.”

“Congrats, you’ve employed basic logic. No, I’m not fucking here to kill you.” Darius managed a withering glare, even trapped as he was. Unlike last time, when he hadn’t been sure _what_ he was doing, acting only on impulse and making use of the sudden advantage it had given him, this time he was slowly building up the necessary power. “Not yet.”

“I suppose we have you to thank for this...hospitality?” Stefano waved a disgusted hand at the scenery around them.

 _“Me?_ It was _your_ fucking sister that came to make a deal with me, maybe you should blame her instead.” Darius’ glare sharpened. “Who the hell told you _I_ did this?”

Stefano watched him for a long moment, as if trying to gauge his honesty, which, _good fucking luck with that,_ but ultimately he released a breath, and with it, the prism holding Darius and Lily in its grasp disappeared. “The man who originally tasked myself and my sister with retrieving the Core has attempted to pull me back into his grasp.” With a twist of his lip, Stefano effortlessly conveyed the disgust and indignation Darius felt every time he heard that same voice from above. “This man--Theodore--claimed that he had ‘brought you back into the flock’, and that you were under his sway. Seeing as you have the Core,” Stefano nodded towards Lily, who instinctively squirmed and pressed herself somehow closer into Darius’ side, “I find that very unlikely.”

“Figures. Guess he’s trying to turn us against each other.” The name, though, caught up with every other piece of information Darius had absorbed so far, from Philomena as well as from his and Lily’s wandering around the place, and he continued, “Wait. _That’s_ Theodore? Your sister told me about him.”

“It is.” Stefano cocked his head to the side. “I get the sense you have also encountered him.”

“If by ‘encounter’ you mean ‘learned to hate the sound of his voice in about two seconds’, then yeah, I’ve encountered him.” Darius shifted his free arm, stretching and rotating it, and he took the opportunity to holster his pistol for the moment. So this _was_ Theodore’s realm, and by what Darius had gleaned so far from their brief ‘conversations’, he worked with Mobius. There was something else he was missing here, but he doubted Stefano had the answers, doubted he even knew what Mobius _was._ “Don’t suppose you know how to leave this place? Guess if you did, you would’ve already.”

“No,” Stefano shook his head, pulling his knife free and spinning it once before settling it in his grip. “Philomena and I were only ever summoned to this place, and then dismissed--we could not come here at will.”

“Fantastic.” Darius muttered. “Guess we’re back to square one, then: wandering aimlessly until we find a way--”

Lily abruptly stiffened and straightened up in Darius’ grasp, and looked for all intents and purposes, somewhat ironically, like a bloodhound that just found a trail. Darius did stop short of actually setting her down and turning her loose, but she’d definitely felt something. “What’s up, kid?”

“I think my dad is here,” Lily whispered, brow furrowing in concentration. “I don’t know how. But I think he’s here. And he’s with someone.”

“Philomena?” Stefano suddenly looked much more interested, straightening up as well.

“I think...” Lily trailed off, and turned her face towards the doorway at the other end of the room, “...that’s the way.”

Darius exchanged a glance with Stefano, who raised a brow at him. Darius lifted his shoulders in a shrug and reached for his pistol again. He sure as hell didn’t have any better ideas. “All right, kid,” he said as he took the strides that would put him and Lily in front--with a ranged weapon, it made the most sense, even if it did put Lily herself in potentially more danger, “just tell us where to go.”

* * *

To say that Sebastian felt disturbed by the place he and Philomena had ended up would be something of a massive understatement.

Their arrival hadn’t been nearly as painful as expected, due in large part to the flashlight trick Philomena had insisted on, even if it hadn’t worked exactly as intended: Sebastian’s flashlight had fallen off his belt mid-fall, and landed on the stony ground far below. From there, Philomena had grabbed his shirt and phased them both down to the floor where the flashlight landed.

That, however, was about the only positive thing Sebastian could say about their current situation.

Something about the architecture seemed oddly familiar, as if he’d seen it before, but he couldn’t imagine where. It looked almost medieval in nature, like ancient catacombs untouched by living hands in hundreds of years, maybe longer.

Philomena’s lips were held in a tense, thin line, and when she said, “This is the place,” Sebastian couldn’t summon any emotion in reaction except wary relief.

“Any idea where to start?” He took in the room they’d landed in, with depressions in the wall where preserved bodies might be placed, and pits in the floor, with bodies _in_ them, judging by the smell. It turned his stomach, but with effort, he shoved the feeling down until it was manageable.

“This place is a maze, and if our people are down here, there is a good chance Theodore is continuing to build passages for them to get lost in even as they wander.” Philomena shook her head, and lifted one hand to place it on the stone wall. “This place defies awareness--even Lily might very well have trouble finding a direction to travel, without a focal point.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and hoped it didn’t sound too obvious when he said, “Do you think you could sense her? Or anyone else?”

He didn’t want to ask her the question that was _really_ on the tip of his tongue: whether she thought Lily was down here alone, in a place she couldn’t find her way out of, but she must have heard some of the fear in his voice, because her voice dropped into a lower, softer tone as she said, “Unfortunately, I do not think I could sense her here, not without having access to the kind of power she wields. If anything, _she_ might be able to sense _us,_ but I do not know for certain. The best suggestion I have is simply to start walking, and searching.”

A tense quiet fell as they began to walk, punctuated by the dull _clack-clack_ of Philomena’s high-heeled boots on the uneven stone. Sebastian cast a skeptical glance at them and asked, “How much of your power is dedicated to making sure you don’t fall over and faceplant or twist an ankle while running in those things?”

“None,” Philomena smirked as she, too, looked down at her boots before facing ahead, “that was a skill I mastered long before I entered this world. These are not even the tallest heels I have attempted such a feat in.”

“What’s the tallest?” He was asking more to fill the silence, to keep from getting lost in his own head, than any real desire to know, but fortunately Philomena either didn’t pick up on that fact or simply didn’t care.

She considered her answer for a beat. “These are about three and a half inches tall. My tallest are about five inches. I do not often wear those--while I _can_ run in them if needed, they are the ones I am least confident in being able to do so without, in your words, faceplanting.” Her smile turned wry as she continued, “However, I did do that quite a few times before I mastered it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Sebastian didn’t know the first thing about the difficulties of running in heels or the process by which one learned how to do so without falling, but it was at least enough to keep him engaged in the conversation and prevent him from spiraling down into his own thoughts. “Do you think--”

_“Sebastian Castellanos.”_

Both Sebastian and Philomena froze in the corridor where they stood, a metal door at the end their only way out as far as Sebastian could see. The voice hadn’t come from anywhere obvious, but Philomena’s spine was ramrod-straight as she said under her breath, “That is Theodore. Tread carefully, Sebastian.”

He wasn’t sure what _tread carefully_ was supposed to mean in this context, but he’d take Philomena’s warning to heart. “What do you want?” He called up to the ceiling, feeling a little ridiculous for yelling into the empty air.

_“I want what you want, Sebastian--an end to the conflict in this world.”_

“You _want_ my fucking daughter’s power.” Sebastian snapped, fists tightening at his sides as he and Philomena continued to walk carefully down the hall, Philomena drawing her magnum and pushing open the door ahead of them cautiously. “I already know what you’re about, what you do.”

_“You would base such a conclusion off the conclusions of someone you would call your enemy? Your choice in allies is...desperate. Hasty. I can offer far more.”_

“Unless you can offer me my daughter and a way out of this world, no, you can’t.” Sebastian found himself looking over his shoulder even though they’d encountered no resistance so far, but that in itself was suspicious to him. “The Valentini twins might have been my enemy once, but they have as much to lose as any of us.”

_“The honesty of my former pawns is neither here nor there--they are not the ones to which I was referring.”_

“What...?” Sebastian trailed off, then felt a cold pit in his stomach. “Archer?”

_“There is so much you do not know of him, yet you so willingly place your trust in his blood-soaked hands. You even had the opportunity to learn more, yet you turned away, so sure of your own observations. Darius Archer is a liar--a tool used by Mobius for many long years. What makes you so certain he cannot lie to you?”_

“First of all,” Sebastian grunted as he hauled himself over a stone beam; Philomena phased to the other side and waited for him there, “I wasn’t exactly given a fucking _choice_ when Archer was thrown in here with me. Second, what makes you think I don’t know he’s lying to me?” Sebastian rolled his eyes despite knowing Theodore, wherever he was, couldn’t see it. “I know what he is and what he can do, but he hasn’t given me a reason to shoot him just yet.”

 _“You_ think _you know,”_ came the correction, and Sebastian set his jaw, felt his teeth grind together, _“but Archer is far more dangerous than you have been led to believe. You have been told by my pawns that he possesses power in this world beyond the norm, yet he claims to know nothing of how that came to be. Ask yourself--would someone who has spent as much time in STEM as Darius Archer truly know nothing about how one obtains power within it?”_

Sebastian stopped.

He was aware of Philomena walking ahead of him for a few paces before she, too, stopped. She turned to look at him and arched a brow in questioning, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He was paralyzed, suddenly, by the pieces falling into place. He was aware of Philomena cautiously approaching and reaching a hand out, but Sebastian jumped before she made contact, his brief trance broken, and her hand withdrew. “Be careful, Sebastian,” she said quietly, “Theodore would say anything if he felt it would sway you to his cause, and rarely is it the truth.”

The thing was, Sebastian _believed_ her. He didn’t trust Theodore any more than he trusted anyone else in here, but he made some valid points about Archer’s character that warranted further investigation. “I know,” he finally said, and took the lead, pushing open the next door to find a mirror identical to the ones in the Mobius safehouses he’d seen so far, which couldn’t be a coincidence, “but I think I need to make sure for myself.”

Philomena regarded the mirror warily. “What is that?”

“It takes me to my safe area.” Sebastian reached one hand out for the mirror, but Philomena’s hand grabbed his lower arm tightly enough to bruise, and he turned back to her.

“You are not leaving me here,” she said, more of a statement than a request, and Sebastian took a mental step back. He didn’t exactly trust Philomena, either, but she had helped him, and it wouldn’t sit right to leave her alone in the midst of hostile territory.

“I don’t know if I can take you with me.” He pointed out, truthfully. Archer had been able to travel through them, but likely only because they’d both entered the system in the same fashion, and, as he’d theorized at the beginning, he was co-opting Sebastian’s safe area. He didn’t know if that extended to anyone else in this world.

“Try.” Philomena’s grip did not relent, though, and Sebastian shrugged.

Reaching for the mirror again, its golden glow overtook him, and when he opened his eyes, he and Philomena stood in the open area of his safe room.

“An office?” Philomena arched a brow. “This is your safe area?”

“It was my old office in KCPD.” Sebastian gestured towards the office door ahead, with his name emblazoned across the glass. “Apparently it was my subconscious that built it when we first got here--I didn’t really choose it.”

At the back of the office, Sebastian pushed the door open and found that same innocuous file folder sitting below Archer’s basic dossier, the one forwarded to him by Kidman. Those three candles were still lit near it, and if they weren’t identical to the same kind they’d seen in Theodore’s realm so far, they were damn close.

Reaching for the folder’s cover, Sebastian was stopped once again by Philomena grabbing hold of his lower arm, and when he looked up, her expression was grim. “Remember, Sebastian,” she warned him, “if this information is provided by Theodore, it will only be in the context of what he wishes you to see, whatever he believes will obtain the result he wants. He knows people, and knows how to influence and manipulate them.”

Sebastian held her gaze for a moment, her jaw firm and blue eyes almost pinning in their intensity, and without replying, he reached out for the file folder again, and opened it.

As soon as the folder fell open, though, Sebastian was flung into an unfamiliar scene: it was similar to the endless abyss he and Archer had first landed in when arriving in this system, but instead it was a formless gray, and Sebastian turned carefully to take in the surroundings, disorienting as they were. “Philomena?”

Philomena did not respond, but a different, slightly more familiar voice muttered from some distance away, “...makes this look so fucking easy...”

Sebastian turned and saw Archer, but this was obviously a memory of a younger Archer, because there was no gray in his hair, it was shorter, and his face looked far less weathered, more clean-shaven, younger even than he’d looked in the ghost woman’s vision. His arms were folded in a gesture of frustration, and he didn’t seem able to see Sebastian despite the fact he was in Archer’s line of sight.

Finally, Archer let out a great, heaving sigh and called out, louder, “Okay, have you got your entertainment value yet? Nothing’s fucking happening!” Archer apparently didn’t receive a response, or at least not one that Sebastian could hear, because he shoved his hands in his jean pockets and began to walk, muttering a blue streak of swearing under his breath.

Sebastian followed.

Archer stopped again after walking for several minutes and looked around, but this time the frown on his face was one of pensive consideration. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it, Archer looked up, and the world began to change.

At first, it was nebulous and impossible to figure out what exactly was being created out of the formless gray, but it only took a few moments for the shapes to solidify into buildings, for the surface under Sebastian’s boots to become a concrete sidewalk, and for the air to be filled with the smell and feel of light rain.

He didn’t recognize their surroundings, but Archer, evidently, did, because he _beamed._ It was an expression Sebastian wouldn’t have ordinarily associated with the dour and mean-tempered ex-agent, but it was there.

In the next moment, Archer’s grin faded to something smaller as the pinch of concentration returned to his brows. The air in front of him shimmered, and this time another person tried to take shape from the disturbance--a man with dark brown hair, but besides that his features refused to settle, and gradually the smile on Archer’s face faded completely, replaced by a scowl.

After another long struggle where Archer was clearly trying to produce a person and no recognizable person appeared, he seemed to lose his patience, and swept both hands out with a frustrated shout--every window from every building Archer had apparently conjured shattered at once, and Sebastian instinctively raised his arms to shield himself against the falling glass, but it seemed to pass directly through him.

When he looked up, the world had returned to a formless gray void, and Archer stood with his hands balanced on his knees, breathing deeply, before he straightened and said, “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!”_ while shoving himself back to a standing position on the last ‘fuck’. Pacing restlessly, that line of concentration was back between his brows, thoughts obviously racing a mile a minute.

“An understandable first mistake,” said another voice, but this one made Sebastian’s heart leap into his throat. Part of him didn’t want to turn, but he needed to see what Theodore was showing him, needed to see what exactly Archer was hiding, and so he slowly shifted his feet until he faced the source of the voice.

Ruvik.

He wasn’t in his charred, hooded lab coat, as Sebastian had seen him in Beacon--instead he wore a smart-looking dress shirt with slacks, body wrapped almost completely by bandages except for the fingers of his hands and half of his face. Apparently he was just as blind to Sebastian’s presence as Archer was, because he walked past without acknowledgment.

“Yeah, yeah,” Archer was grumbling as Ruvik closed distance between them, “I think I see what you mean now about the possibilities going to your head.”

“As I said, an understandable first mistake when venturing into a new frontier such as this.” Ruvik gestured at the gray void around them with one hand, the other coming to rest comfortably, easily, on Archer’s shoulder. Sebastian’s stomach turned as Archer seemed to unconsciously lean into the touch. “But I believe I have learned much from this experiment. As have you, I suppose.” Ruvik turned, and the look on his face--from the angle Sebastian could see--was calculating and considering, but also somehow strangely _pleased._ “You see now why I have invested so much--everything--into this. And you understand the gravity of seeing it in this way, from within.”

Archer drew in a breath and expelled it, but nodded. “Yeah, I do. Even if I don’t think I’ll have the same power here as you.”

“A skill acquired with practice. I have given you the tools to do so as time permits, though I will ask you make note of the things you are able to achieve if I do not witness them myself.” Ever the scientist at work, Sebastian thought bitterly, but he was immediately more concerned about _I have given you the tools to do so,_ a statement that came with very powerful implications.

 _“You see now the danger he poses.”_ Theodore’s voice was a surprise, and almost made Sebastian jump where he stood; the gray void faded away into darkness again, but did not resolve itself into his office like he hoped. _“Darius Archer knows the power of a Core, knows what he could do with that kind of influence. The Core of this world is vulnerable, lost, and if Darius Archer obtains her, he would be able to tear this world down and remake it in whichever image he desires.”_

A deep, cold dread settled in Sebastian’s chest, and he shivered involuntarily. The things he had observed about Archer thus far clashed with what he had just witnessed in this vision. Archer had made decent points about the status of their mission when traveling together. He had answered more questions about Mobius than anyone else Sebastian had spoken with to date.

Yet what he had just seen changed things. Archer knew power, and more than that, he had known _Ruvik._

 _“Now you see. Now you understand.”_ Theodore’s voice settled further and further into Sebastian’s bones, making him wonder again why he’d ever trusted Archer in the first place. _“Bring me the Core, and I can keep her safe, keep_ you _safe along with her.”_

And just like that, the illusion shattered.

“You’re not taking my fucking daughter!” Sebastian yelled out into the empty space, loud enough and harsh enough that his throat began to sting. _“Nobody_ is taking her, and I’m going to get her _out of here!”_

There was a brief rumble of what Sebastian thought might have been disappointment. _“Perhaps I was mistaken--you do not fully understand the danger...or what Darius Archer is capable of when presented with the temptation of power. When next we speak, I believe you will be ready to be folded into my flock.”_

Sebastian felt more than heard Theodore’s departure. The air didn’t feel quite so heavy, so thick, and from the empty abyss, his office formed once again. He was sitting in his desk chair, face resting on his arms, flat atop the desk’s surface. His head throbbed at the base of his skull, in the same place he had been connected to Ruvik’s representation of the Beacon STEM system, and he shuddered.

Lifting his head higher, he found Philomena laying across the couch in the corner of the office, eyes closed and arms folded across her stomach. Pushing up on the desktop until he was on his feet, the chair shifted backwards across the floor, and Philomena’s eyes flashed open, landing on him almost immediately.

“Sebastian, at last.” She released a breath, and some of the tension left her shoulders. “As soon as you touched that folder, you vanished. I was not certain what to do, whether you had been pulled back into Theodore’s realm or somewhere else, so I simply waited to see if you would return.”

“How long was I gone?” Sebastian rubbed his face in one hand, suddenly feeling more tired than he had since entering this system.

“I am not certain of that, either. Time moves very fluidly here, to the best of my observation.” Philomena swung her legs over the side of the couch and rested her elbows on her knees. “But so far as I could tell, you were gone for at least twenty minutes. Did you...” Philomena hesitated before continuing, “...did you find what you were looking for?”

“I’m not sure I really knew what I was looking for,” Sebastian turned to look at where the file folder sat innocently atop the table, “but I definitely found something. I...I don’t really know what to think right now. I need some time to process it.”

“In the meantime, perhaps we should return to Theodore’s realm and continue the search?” Philomena suggested. “As I said, I am unsure how much time we lost here.”

A pit of guilt sat briefly in Sebastian’s stomach and wouldn’t be easily dislodged--his daughter was lost in some unknown level of STEM and he was chasing trails out of paranoia. Still, it had been worth it to get a slightly better idea of Archer’s potential motives...not to mention his associates.

Kidman had told him before starting this mission that Archer had clocked more hours in STEM than anyone else in Mobius, even the ones who were studying it now, who had been studying it for the past three years he’d apparently been on the run, but not that he’d been involved in its creation in the first place. He had to have been, for Ruvik to bring him within the system when it was clearly more of a blank slate than a finished world. Kidman probably hadn’t been able to give him all the details if what she said about Archer’s records being sealed was the truth, or...

Sebastian’s gut clenched. It was possible, too, that even _Kidman_ didn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t even recorded in Archer’s files at all.

“Sebastian?” Philomena stood across the room, next to the mirror, raising a brow. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I was just...” Sebastian trailed off and shook his head, approaching the mirror, “...lost in my head, I guess.”

“Best find your way out before we return to Theodore’s realm--we have no way of knowing what awaits us there, but I doubt it will be pleasant.” Philomena gestured towards the mirror with one hand. “After you.”

* * *

Predictably, Lily had begun to panic as soon as she told Darius that she couldn’t sense her dad anymore in...wherever the fuck they were.

Up until that point, their luck had been holding out--they hadn’t encountered any more resistance. Darius hadn’t been willing to assume it was _entirely_ based on luck given that Theodore seemed to have some vested interest in pulling Darius under his wing along with obtaining the Core. Assumedly that meant he needed them alive, but at some point, the stalemate would have to be broken, and that meant Theodore would have to attempt subduing Darius the old-fashioned way.

Despite the quiet, it was with no small amount of reluctance that Darius pulled them to a halt when Lily’s breathing began to stutter and shake, hands tightly clutching Darius’ shirt with her face buried into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Dad’s gone,” she managed, choked with a sob, and Darius’ stomach dropped to his feet.

A weird kind of panic clawed its way up his chest, because while he’d managed to keep Lily relatively calm throughout this whole ordeal thus far, they hadn’t yet run into a situation where Darius couldn’t conclusively say that Castellanos was out there somewhere. Still, he was here, and he doubted Stefano was up to the task of reassuring her, and for whatever godforsaken reason, the kid seemed to trust him at least a little, so he felt compelled to at least try.

Darius stopped at the next corner with Lily sniffling in his grasp, and turned to Stefano, whose knife was held securely in one hand, jaw set with tension. “Cover us,” he said, though he was a far cry from trusting anyone to watch his back, _especially_ Stefano. This was more a case of stopping an argument before it could begin, giving Stefano a clear direction without leaving room for debate, because Darius really, _really_ was not in the fucking mood to debate the need to stop right now.

Carefully setting Lily down, Darius kneeled to be at her level as she sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them and her quilt providing an additional buffer from the world outside as she continued to quietly cry, little hiccuping noises just barely muffled by where her face was hidden in her sleeves. Darius reached out with one hand, but then hesitated and drew back just slightly.

What the fuck was he supposed to _say?_

The way Darius saw things, there were two possible reasons why Lily had suddenly stopped sensing Castellanos: either he’d found a way out of this place and was now trying to find a way back _in_ to retrieve her, or he’d died somewhere in here and wouldn’t be coming at all. The latter definitely wouldn’t reassure her, even if Darius found it the most likely option, but that left the former, which Darius was skeptical of.

“Kid,” he finally said, reaching out again and resting a hand on her shoulder and upper arm, “can you look at me?”

When she did look up, her face was blotchy with red around her eyes and cheeks, and her lip wobbled precariously as she sniffed again. “I c-can’t f-f-feel my dad anymore,” Lily managed before completely breaking down again, and this time Darius set his pistol on the floor beside them so he could rest both hands on Lily’s upper arms, offering touch without pushing too far, since that was probably the last thing the kid needed.

“I don’t know where your dad is, kiddo,” he began, floundering for words that didn’t sound like they’d come out of the mouth of a bitter ex-Mobius-agent with more sharp edges than reassurance, and continued, “but you told me you couldn’t sense anything outside this area. He probably found a way out and he’s looking for a way back in to come get you, okay?”

Lily somehow looked just as skeptical about that prospect as Darius himself felt, and in some way, that cut deeper than Darius’ panic so far--she was too young, far too young, to already be so ready to believe the worst. Darius had believed the worst from a young age because it had already come to pass, and every time he thought it couldn’t get worse, it always did. There was always something more left to lose. It wasn’t something he enjoyed thinking about, and it definitely wasn’t something he would wish on a kid like her.

Toby, had he been here, would have tried again even if he knew his attempts to comfort Darius were, at the end of the day, empty. He couldn't promise safety, couldn’t promise peace. But he would still try.

So Darius tried again, too. “We’re going to keep looking until we find him. Doesn’t matter how long we have to keep walking down these endless fucking hallways, or listen to Theodore try to talk us into doing something, we’re going to keep looking.” Leaning back on his heels and straightening up, ignoring the audible _pop_ in his back as he did so, he offered Lily one hand. “You with us?”

She looked up, sniffled a little more, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and nodded, grabbing Darius’ hand with both of hers, and he tugged her back to her feet before rising up again himself. Stefano, for his part, was watching the hallway beyond with a darting gaze, fingers flexing around the knife grip. He turned to acknowledge Darius with a brief nod when he and Lily returned, but otherwise didn’t react. “Nothing stirs out there insofar as I can tell,” Stefano nodded towards the door at the end of the hall, “but the quiet makes me...uneasy.”

Darius grunted in vague agreement. “Don’t suppose you can sense anything out there, either.”

“No, nothing.” Stefano shook his head and idly twirled the knife once before holding it securely again. “I am starting to think we will not be allowed to leave until we satisfy Theodore, though if we do so, in giving him what he wants, it would surely end in our deaths regardless.”

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of fucking sunshine,” Darius muttered as he took point again. He couldn’t blame Stefano, not really, because that was pretty much Darius’ outlook on their current situation, too, but at least he hadn’t said so aloud in front of Lily.

In the next room, their situation changed dramatically--Darius and Stefano faced hostile force for the first time since reluctantly joining forces. At the very least, it wasn’t images of people wearing faces from Darius’ past, just more of the fiery bastards, but as Darius unloaded three rounds into only one of them before it fell, he debated whether that was a good thing or not.

Fortunately--loathe as Darius was to admit it--Stefano was on top of things, and with a _click_ and a flash of his camera, the remaining two were frozen in place, and Stefano darted in with his knife to dispatch one. Moving to the other, it erupted in flame, and Stefano lurched backwards. Darius recovered and lined up two decent headshots, dropping the creature at the same time Stefano’s light prism failed.

The glance they exchanged was half surprise and half begrudging satisfaction, but Darius didn’t have time to say anything before Lily straightened in his arms again, eyes brightening. Again Darius was reminded of the mental image of a bloodhound finding a scent, but again managed to keep from saying so. “What’s up, kid?”

“I think...” Lily chewed on her lip. “...I think Dad might be back.”

Stefano narrowed his eye thoughtfully and tapped his upper lip with the flat tip of the knife. “I would almost say that I believe Philomena is...near, as well. Or what passes for it in this realm.”

“How near?” Darius knew that might not exactly be a useful question to ask given the geography of this place was weird at best, but he had to ask it.

“Near enough to risk searching.” Stefano refocused his glance on Darius. “I do not think you will enjoy the idea, but if I phase to where I believe Philomena is in relation to us, it is possible I could bring them back here with the Core as a focal point.”

Ordinarily Darius wouldn’t have been too proud to admit that a lot of what Stefano just said went right over his head, but today, he decided to just roll with it. “Fine, go. We’ll wait here. Hopefully that should make it easier to find us again.”

Stefano turned from them and took a deep breath, then with a brief flash of blue, he was gone. Darius set Lily down and pulled his pistol magazine out, checking how many rounds he had left and topping it off with the rest of the spare ammo he’d found in the chamber he’d first landed in. Only ten rounds left for the handgun, and a lot more for the rifle, but while Lily was still a factor in this equation, the rifle would be a hell of a lot more difficult to use.

“Mr. Darius?” Lily was tugging on the bottom of his shirt, and he looked down at her, kneeling to be at her level again. “Thank you for staying with me. I don’t like it here.”

 _Jesus Christ._ This kid was going to be the fucking death of him. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Not like I could just leave you here alone.” Darius hesitated, then continued, “I’m sure you’ll see your dad soon, and that’ll help you feel better.”

“What about _your_ dad?” Lily asked him, eyes bright, and some of the wind was punched out of Darius’ lungs. “Or your mom? I don’t think you like it here either. Maybe they’d help you.”

Darius hadn’t thought about his parents in a long, long time, and truthfully could’ve gone the rest of his life without thinking about them again without complaint, but that, again, wasn’t something he was going to explain to Lily. He sat against the nearest stone wall to give his legs a break and continued, once Lily sat cross-legged in front of him, “I haven’t talked to my parents in a long time, kid. I don’t really want to talk to them.” After a beat, he continued, almost without thinking, “I did have a brother, though. Toby. He would’ve helped me.”

“What happened to him?” Lily inquired, obviously picking up on the past tense and digging deeper with that unabashed nosiness that all kids seemed to have.

“He’s...uh.” Darius cleared his throat. “He’s gone. Been gone for a long time.”

Lily was quiet for a long moment, then she finally said, “I think you were probably a good big brother.”

A grin began to curve its way up Darius’ cheek. “Well, actually, I was the younger one.”

Lily’s gaze whipped back to him and her eyes narrowed. “But you’re _old,”_ she declared at last, nose still scrunched up thoughtfully.

Darius’ bark of laughter was an unexpected noise even to him, but it felt nice despite the topic of discussion. “Yeah, I guess I am, but he would’ve been even older, if you can imagine that. He would’ve been...” Darius did some brief math in his head, “...almost fifty.”

And if _that_ wasn’t a sobering thought, that Toby hadn’t even lived to be half that age, Darius didn’t know what was. Lily’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and she said, “He _would’ve_ been really old,” just above a whisper.

From the corridor beyond, Darius heard the sound of footsteps, fast-approaching and heavy, and he launched into a standing position, snatching his rifle up from where he’d dropped it, pushing Lily behind him as he cautiously called out, “Castellanos? Valentini? Either one of you, whoever the fuck’s out there.”

No response came except in the rumble of stone, and Darius whipped around to see the doorway at the other end of the room disappear behind a wall of rock. From the first hallway, two of the fiery creatures appeared, and Darius put them down in a burst of rifle fire. Reaching back to make sure Lily was still behind him, he quickly crossed the room in time for two more of the creatures to appear. Darius yanked his knife free and sunk it deep into the first one’s chest, and when he went for the second, it burst into a flaming aura.

Jerking backwards a split-second too late, Darius got a burned hand and wrist for his trouble, and swearing a blue streak, he fired the rifle one handed, point-blank. It was a messy spray of bullets, but achieved its intended goal, and the fire creature fell. Leaning out of the doorway, Darius checked for anything else coming their direction, when Lily screamed from behind him.

Spinning sharply on his heel, Darius found three more of the fire bastards approaching from fuck knew where--there were no other obvious entrances, so Theodore had likely just dropped them in here by force of will. Flexing the fingers of his burned hand and wincing against the flash of pain, Darius gripped the rifle more securely and steadily began putting the creatures down as soon as he’d pushed Lily behind him again, taking slow steps backwards into the hallway. He had no way of knowing whether it was another dead end, but anything was better than staying put.

Just as soon as those three fell, though, _four_ rose up to take their place, and Darius was beginning to run low on ammo, not to mention ideas. He cast a brief glance down the hallway again, and made a snap decision. “When I say, we’re going to run, all right?” Darius made eye contact with Lily for a split second before returning his attention to the creatures with their magma-coated skin and putting two of them down with short rifle bursts. “You said you could sense your dad, so wherever he is, we’re going to try and run there.”

In the brief lull, Darius turned to get a read on Lily, who looked terrified, but nodded, lip wobbling again as she shuffled in place. Two more of the creatures appeared, and Darius realized exactly where they were coming from--inconspicuous piles of ash that Darius had overlooked when first entering this room. Hesitating for a beat, he made a snap decision.

“Change of plans, kid. Stay here--right here, hear me?--and don’t move until I say. I’ll be right back.” Darius hefted his rifle and took off at a dead sprint back into the main room before he could hear any potential protest, and promptly kicked over two piles of ash that had begun to stir. One more was at the corner of the room, and as soon as he knocked it over, he turned back to head for where he’d left Lily and--

Darius stopped, and locked eyes with...himself.

Well, himself from a long time ago--seventeen, to be exact, in the same clothing he’d worn the day Toby died, the same as the vision from earlier. His finger rested on the rifle trigger, then fell away, then rested on it again, unable to decide which reaction would damn him worse. Empty eyes looked at him from a few meters away, somehow swimming with accusation and fury deep enough to drown in.

The image of past Darius said nothing, and didn’t move, and neither did present day Darius. He couldn’t. He knew, he fucking _knew_ that it wasn’t real, that this was just some image Theodore had conjured to make him hesitate, which was exactly what he was fucking doing, like an absolute dumb fuck.

His younger self took a step forward, and Darius unconsciously took one back. His gaze flickered over to Lily, briefly, who was hiding around the edge of the doorway, watching with fear bright in her eyes. Darius looked at his younger self again just in time for him to take another step forward, and for Darius to take another step back.

Darius’ shoulders touched something hard--the wall--and he jerked his rifle up, sights locked on his younger self’s chest, head spinning as he tried to decide _why._ This was _him,_ why was he looking at himself like he was the scum of the fucking universe?

_Probably because you fucking are._

Straightening, Darius pressed on the trigger, not quite enough to fire, aim holding steady. Center of mass, that was what he’d been taught. His finger rested on the trigger again, but he was frozen. He couldn’t pull it. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

With both arms out, his past self leaned in abruptly, and Darius fired on reflex, panic coiling tight in his chest, around his lungs, making his blood roar in his ears. The image of Darius at seventeen fell, and when Darius looked down at him, he was flung backwards in time twenty-seven years, to an empty sidewalk half past midnight, two bullet wounds identical to the ones that had killed Toby glaring red in his own chest, blood pooling out over the floor.

Blood that _Darius_ had spilt.

 _“Your inflexible independence is your greatest weakness, as ever,”_ came Theodore’s voice, but Darius was only halfway paying attention, eyes still locked on the tableau that mirrored the one that had haunted his nightmares for nearly thirty years. _“When others reach out to you, offering aid or guidance, you strike them away, stubbornly bound to your desire to face the world alone. In the end, you are empty of anything but the capacity to spill blood,_ anyone’s _blood, because that is easier. Even your own, perhaps even the blood of your brother, who defend--”_

“Shut the _fuck_ up about my fucking brother!” The scream that tore its way out of Darius’ throat was harsh, and ragged, and when he looked at the doorway again he found Lily gone, but that was probably for the better at this point. “You don’t know a _fucking_ thing about me, _or_ him! I didn’t fucking kill him, and that fucking... _copy_ of me isn’t even _real,_ just--” Darius’ voice finally broke, and his head throbbed, and he buried his face in one shaking hand. “--just _stop!”_

 _“You could be free of these things,”_ Theodore’s voice dropped to something that was likely supposed to be soothing, but Darius was numb to it by now, _“if you only relent. Let go. Return to the fold you know so very well. Assume your natural role.”_

Darius said nothing. His words were spent, and the strength drained out of his bones, dropping him to his knees beside the corpse of the boy who had died that day just as surely Toby had, his shoulders sagging forward as his head dropped.

Hands grasped him underneath his arms, dragging him away, and Darius couldn’t find a fuck to give about it.


	8. Probity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for brief but non-explicit mentions of the implication of torture this chapter

_ noun:  _ _ integrity and uprightness; honesty _

* * *

“Sebastian.”

Philomena’s voice stopped Sebastian in his tracks from where he’d been preparing to push open a metal door, presumably leading back into Theodore’s realm proper. The mirror glowed gold behind them, and illuminated the vaguely distant look on her face. “What is it?”

Refocusing, Philomena’s lip turned up in a faint smile. “Our luck may be changing. I think Lily is near. Relatively speaking, at least. If my senses do not deceive me--which is a...questionable prospect, truthfully--perhaps even Stefano is near, as well.”

“Can you take us there?” Sebastian didn’t know the first thing about the geography of this place--any geography in a STEM-generated world was prone to unusual proportions, to say the least--but if she could sense them, it was worth a shot.

“I do not want to risk phasing long-range when I do not know what awaits us,” Philomena gestured towards the door and whatever lay beyond it, “but I can attempt to lead us in the direction I believe is correct on foot.”

“Then let’s go,” Sebastian checked his pistol before loading a new bolt into the crossbow, and followed at Philomena’s heels as she led the way out.

They were back in the same corridor as when they’d left, so maybe the construction of the place had remained somewhat intact after all. After a beat of hesitation, Philomena took them back the way they’d come. Seeing as Sebastian himself didn’t have a better plan for the moment, he decided to reserve judgment before declaring they’d gotten themselves genuinely lost.

It turned out to be a good decision, because around the next corner was a room Sebastian was sure they hadn’t seen before--it was full of the same medieval-esque torture devices they’d been seeing since first arriving here, lit by candlelight that felt about as cozy as one could expect from a torture dungeon. The only thing that set it apart was what looked like some kind of altar at the head of the room, with a symbol that looked...somehow vaguely familiar.

“That symbol...” Sebastian gestured up at the front of the room, and Philomena followed his gaze, “...I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

Both of her brows arched in response. “Interesting. Your companion, Archer, he claimed to know it as well. We did not have time to get into the specifics of what he knew before our immediate task took priority, but perhaps if we find him, he can enlighten us.”

Sebastian made a noncommittal grunt and continued looking around the room for anything they could use, or an exit, seeing as they’d apparently hit a dead end here. He wasn’t sure how much they could trust Archer’s word at this point, if he had even been worth trusting in the first place, but he wasn’t going to tell Philomena that until he’d at least spoken to the man himself. Despite everything, the detective’s instinct to hear both sides of the story won out over the automatic distrust, but just barely.

“Have you found anything?” Philomena approached and held out a small box of ammunition. “This was in one of those crevices,” she gestured towards the carved-out holes in the wall where one might store bodies or coffins in a mausoleum, “but I have not discovered any way out of here yet.”

“Do you sense anything?”

“Only the same things as before. I am beginning to think it is either a trick being played on us by Theodore, or the geography of his realm is preventing me from precisely identifying their closeness. Either way--”

Philomena froze, and in the space between one blink and the next, there was a flash of blue, and Stefano appeared, looking very confused in one second and relieved in the next. Philomena gasped, and reached out at the same time as her brother, and they grasped each other’s forearms while speaking in rapid-fire Italian that Sebastian didn’t have a hope of understanding. By the urgent and simultaneously reassured tones, he assumed they were catching up on what had happened since the last time they’d seen each other.

Sebastian, however, had a more pressing question. “Where’s Lily?”

Stefano turned and blinked at him in mild surprise, as if he’d momentarily forgotten Sebastian was even in the room, before the expression cleared. “Your companion, Archer, is with her. They were waiting a short distance away as to make it easier to return to their location, but,” here Stefano frowned thoughtfully, “I am having considerably more trouble sensing the Core’s presence now.”

Sebastian’s heart dropped into his feet, and all he could think was Theodore’s voice telling him, _“The Core of this world is vulnerable, lost, and if Darius Archer obtains her, he would be able to tear this world down and remake it in whichever image he desires.”_

“We have to find them,” Sebastian hefted his crossbow with greater intent and turned his attention back to Stefano. “You said you were having trouble sensing Lily--can you get enough to take us back to where she was?”

After a pause which was probably only a few seconds and may as well have been hours, Stefano shook his head. “She is...moving. Odd, considering it was Archer’s idea to remain--”

“Let’s go.” Sebastian was already turning to take long strides down the hallway, almost running in his haste, and only the telltale sets of dual _clack-clack_ sounds--one set being Philomena’s heels and the other being Stefano’s fancy dress shoes--told him that the twins were following.

True to form, the corridors had changed again since he and Philomena had passed through them, and it didn’t take long for Sebastian to realize they were practically going in circles. Was it Theodore? Was Archer using Lily’s power to keep them distracted?

The sound of footsteps echoing off the stone snapped Sebastian out of his spinning thoughts, and he was turning to raise his crossbow before realizing the footsteps sounded light, lighter than anything else in this place should be. In a flurry of gasping breaths and stumbling steps, Lily came careening around the corner, and Sebastian’s heart felt like it was about to burst right inside his fucking chest.

“Lily!”

She stopped dead in the hall for a split second before she cried “Dad!” and came running; Sebastian knelt and dropped his crossbow, opening his arms wide as she careened directly into him with enough force to tip him slightly backwards, but he had her. He _had_ her.

“How do we get back out of here?” He cast his glance around, looking for something different than the hallways they’d been following in circles already, finding nothing. “We need to get in touch with Kidman and see about extraction.”

“Where is Archer?” Stefano peered around the corner Lily had come from, and took a few steps in that direction as if trying to hear whether he was approaching from a distance. “He was supposed to be with her.”

Sebastian was only moments from saying it would be far better to leave Archer behind considering everything he’d heard and seen of the man so far, but then chewed his lip, guilt gnawing at his chest. Indecision pulled him two different ways, and while he knew where his priorities lay, Archer could still be dangerous whether he was under Theodore’s sway or if he potentially had his own agenda. And if he _was_ innocent--which Sebastian was still doubting at the moment--it wouldn’t be right to leave him here.

“We can come back for him once Lily is safe,” Sebastian decided finally, rising to his feet with Lily still in his arms. She settled against his side in a familiar position that made Sebastian’s throat tighten. It almost didn’t seem _real,_ like he was going to open his eyes any minute and be back in that shitty bar where Kidman had found him, Nadia across from him in the booth and passed out in her own drunken stupor.

After so much time in STEM, maybe it was understandable that reality seemed, at best, uncertain, but this was real. This was _real_. It had to be.

“And how can we be certain that you will come back at all?” Both Valentini twins were facing him now, wearing identical cold, blank expressions, and Philomena raised her chin as she asked her question. “You will have what you sought. You do not trust Archer, nor myself or my brother. Not enough to risk your life for us.”

“Dad--” Lily began, but Sebastian was too focused on defending his case to immediately notice.

“No, I don’t,” Sebastian shot back, “but I don’t think you trust Archer, either.”

“We do not truly _trust_ anyone,” Stefano arched his visible brow, “but it is not even Archer himself that matters--it is the standard leaving him behind sets. I suppose myself and Philomena are also to be cast aside now that we have fulfilled our purpose to you?”

“Dad--”

“Unsurprising, I suppose, in the grand scheme of things.” Philomena was curling her lip, blood-red in the dim, flickering light the nearby torches provided. “This alliance was never intended to last.”

As Philomena took a step back and began to reach into her jacket, where Sebastian knew she kept her magnum, and Stefano produced his camera, Sebastian floundered for a weapon himself that he could use without setting Lily down, but--

_“Dad!”_

Everything stopped and all eyes turned to Lily, who was scowling at him petulantly when he turned to look at her. “What is it?”

“Mr. Darius was in trouble when I ran away,” Lily worried her lip between her teeth and looked down briefly before she continued, “and I think he was upset. Why can’t we help him?”

Sebastian didn’t know how he was supposed to explain to Lily that Archer was almost definitely not as innocent as she seemed to believe, and in the end he didn’t know that he even had the heart to try. She still believed in the good in people, despite everything she’d been through here, as Mobius’ test subject, and taking that away seemed cruel.

“My safe room,” Sebastian declared, turning to look at the Valentini twins again, whose expressions were still equally blank. “As far as I know, nothing can get in there except through the mirrors.”

“As far as you know? It seems like a significant risk.” Philomena’s lip twisted down again, but this time in a thoughtful scowl. It wasn’t like Sebastian disagreed, in fact the idea of letting Lily out of his sight after going through so much to find her seemed ludicrous at best, but the idea of bringing her into an actively dangerous situation seemed just as bad. “While Stefano and I were unaware of your safe room’s existence until I saw it myself, that does not mean it is invisible to everything in here. Theodore is more powerful than us, after all, to say nothing of the other force in here. The only one more powerful than any of them, however...” Philomena drifted off as her gaze shifted towards Lily.

Sebastian immediately raised his guard. “I don’t think I’m going to like whatever idea you’re cooking up.”

“You very likely won’t,” Stefano rolled his visible eye, folding his arms over his chest, “but whether you enjoy the fact or not, the Core is the most significant force within this world, which is why everyone here covets her power so. We would be fools not to utilize that advantage.”

“Then I guess we’re fools.” Sebastian retorted, instinctively turning to the side so that Lily was slightly further away from the twins. “She’s a _child._ We’re not going to _use_ her power like the two of you did, like everyone else in here apparently wants to.”

“Whether we use her power or not ultimately does not matter.” Philomena glanced between them, maybe trying to play the part of diplomat. “She is still safest here, with us, where we can defend her.”

While that was the option that appealed to Sebastian the most for a lot of reasons, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about bringing Lily along for what could turn out to be an unnecessary rescue mission. The expression on Lily’s face was ultimately what made Sebastian’s decision for him--the deep terror hidden just under the surface at the idea of being left alone again.

It was a fear Sebastian was all too familiar with.

“How do we find Archer in here if Theodore’s just building more places for us to get lost in?” It was a fair enough question, Sebastian had a feeling, considering none of them had really known where they were going and had just stumbled into one another by chance.

“I think our only option at this juncture is to return the way Lily came.” Philomena’s gaze flickered to Lily, then to the hallway where she’d come from. “If she remembers the way.”

“If the way she came is even still the same as it was before,” Stefano muttered as they all turned and began to walk.

A tense silence gripped the group as tightly as Lily gripped Sebastian’s shoulder while they walked, broken only by the sounds of the Valentini twins’ shoes on stone and the crackling of torches where they were placed on the walls. Sebastian held his pistol in his free hand, and at the front of the group, Philomena held her magnum at the ready, but nothing came out to face them, hostile or otherwise.

“I don’t suppose any of this looks familiar?” Philomena asked after a long stretch of quiet, tension thick enough to cut with Stefano’s knife.

Sebastian turned to Lily, but she was already shaking her head, disappointment creasing her face. “No, I don’t think--”

Lily was interrupted by the reverberating echo of a scream, and everyone in the group stiffened almost in unison. Sebastian hadn’t known Archer for long, but the sound of his voice, even like this, was recognizable. In the next room, there were two metal doors, and from behind one came another cry, similar in tone and pitch, but this one was more like a gasping, desperate cry than a scream of defiance.

Sebastian didn’t know what they were going to find in there, but he was absolutely sure he didn’t want Lily to see it. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he told her quietly as he carefully pushed the door open, stepping within.

It was a room with three cells, gates locked by iron chains. Two of them were empty, and in the third, Sebastian found Archer.

He sat against a wall, a sack of some kind covering his head, and his shirt was torn in a few places. It was black, so Sebastian couldn’t immediately tell if Archer was bleeding out of any of the tears, but judging by the angry red marks on his forearms, it was far more likely that burns lurked underneath the cloth. Chains were wrapped around his wrists up to the middle of his forearms, with another set around his chest, and as Sebastian watched, the chains went from a deep, scorched black to a warm red, then a furious orange, and Archer choked on a groan, head tipping back and legs shifting uselessly in agony.

Maybe Archer heard Sebastian’s shoes on the stone, maybe one of the Valentinis had shifted something on the floor as they entered behind him, but either way, Archer stiffened suddenly and spoke, voice ragged and breaking every few words, the chains around him returning to a cool black. “Come back for more, huh? You’re wasting your fucking time.”

“Archer,” Sebastian said, unsure what else _to_ say; he didn’t like the man, and didn’t know if he was even trustworthy, but he couldn’t help but feel a stab of sympathy anyway.

Archer was silent for a long moment, apparently processing Sebastian’s presence outside his cell. “Theodore must be really fucking desperate if he thinks a vision of _you_ will make me do what he wants.”

“I’m real.” He turned to the twins and said, to them, “We need to find a way to break this chain.”

“The kid,” Archer coughed, and Sebastian found himself taken aback, “what about the kid?”

“I’m here,” Lily spoke up, though Sebastian checked to make sure her eyes were still closed as Stefano stepped forward and twisted his knife through the chains, breaking them easily.

It was hard to tell with a sack over his head, but Sebastian thought he was shaking his head. “Shouldn’t have--” he gasped suddenly as the chains turned bright orange again, veering towards a yellow that was hotter than any other temperature they’d seen so far. _“Fuck,”_ Archer bit out, breathing heavy and harsh.

Reluctantly, Sebastian set Lily down on the ground briefly to shove the cell door open and yank the sack from Archer’s head. His hair was drenched in sweat, and maybe blood, since there was a steady smear of it across one side of his face. There were no visible burns on his face, but his ice-blue eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed.

Fortunately, removing the chains from around Archer’s arms and chest was as simple as pulling a single lever on the wall and watching the chains retract into some unseen place behind Archer’s back. Brow pinched with pain, eyes closed, Archer breathed for a moment before attempting to gather his legs up underneath him to stand, and only made it halfway before falling to one knee, biting his lip hard enough to draw noticeable blood when he looked up again.

Sebastian held out a hand without thinking, and Archer regarded it for a long pause before looking up at Sebastian’s face, and whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, or maybe he was just too tired to refuse help, no matter how much he wanted to, because he slapped one hand into Sebastian’s, and Sebastian hauled Archer back to his feet. He swayed for a few seconds, but remained standing, and didn’t meet Sebastian’s eyes as he shouldered his way out of the cell.

His rifle and knife were on a table nearby, and he took those things, closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath before saying, voice slightly more steady, “Don’t suppose anyone has a plan for getting the hell out of here?”

“We could try and find the way back to my mirror,” Sebastian leaned down to pick Lily up again, and she settled in his grasp in a gesture that was familiar, but also so unused in the past few years that it felt like trying to turn a crank with rusted gears. “But it seems like this place is changing at will.”

Archer grunted. “Doubt we’ll make it back to one of your mirrors unless Theodore wants us to, and if you’ve got the Core, he isn’t going to let us leave. All we can do now is just keep walking and wait for an opportunity. He’ll slip eventually. Everyone does.”

Sebastian didn’t have any better ideas, and while the Valentini twins exchanged a silent glance, they apparently had no protest to offer, either. They began to walk again, Sebastian and Archer on point, the twins at their heels.

Their quiet wasn’t quite as tense as it had been earlier, but instead it felt subdued. Sebastian glanced over at Archer, who was still walking at a steady pace, but his expression looked more blank than Sebastian had seen it so far, schooled into an almost painful stoicity. “Do you want to talk about what Theodore showed you?” Sebastian asked quietly, remembering Archer had thought he was a vision at first.

When Archer looked over at him, his expression was still carefully neutral, but his eyes were hazy with a haunted, unfocused fog, and he finally said, flatly, “No.”

“It could help us understand how he works,” Sebastian countered, facing ahead again as they turned the next corner. “Or how we could possibly resist his influence.”

Archer’s jaw twitched out of the corner of Sebastian’s eye, and his hands tightened briefly around his rifle. “I said _no,_ Castellanos.”

And that, as they said, was that.

The next room was open and wider than the others, and there were four metal pieces, circular, on the floor, each with channels carved into them. Up on a platform with two ladders, one on each end, there were four wheel-based pulleys with chains, which probably corresponded to the circular pieces.

“What’s this now?” Sebastian asked under his breath, walking around the edges of the circular pieces, trying to figure out what they were supposed to be doing with them.

“It’s a puzzle, I think.” Archer slung his rifle carefully onto his back, wincing as he shifted his arms, then climbed up the nearest ladder. “Pretty sure I even know what symbol we need to make. Everyone come up here and take a wheel. One for each of us.”

The twins phased easily to the top of the platform, and Sebastian carefully climbed with Lily still in his grasp, but he passed her to Archer once he was close enough while he hauled himself up the rest of the way. With the twins already at one wheel each, Archer took the third, and Sebastian the last. He didn’t have a damn clue what they were doing, but Archer, somehow, did, and after a series of instructions called out to each of them, a mechanism somewhere below them gave a resounding _clunk,_ and blood began to flow into the newly-aligned channels.

Now that he was seeing it whole and put-together, Sebastian did feel like he’d seen the symbol somewhere before, and said as much aloud. “I might’ve seen this before. Or something like it.”

“Be surprised if you didn’t see it in Beacon.” Archer jerked his head towards the symbol on the floor. “It’s connected to Mobius. Sort of.”

As soon as Archer said it, Sebastian was thrown back into his memories, looking out from a metal door with bars on the window, and carvings on the wall of a hospital ward next to the door just across from him, reliefs on metal doors in the Keeper’s lair, printed on paperwork deep in the dungeons he’d been lost in for what felt like an eternity. A cross, but also not.

“That’s a _Mobius_ thing?” Sebastian finally managed, slightly more hoarse than normal.

“Sort of,” Archer repeated with a shrug, which cleared up exactly nothing, thanks very fucking much, “if you were born into that church--more like a cult, though, honestly--that meant you were probably born into Mobius, too. Some people who were recruited from outside ended up joining it, but it didn’t really appeal to me.”

Somehow, that answer only gave Sebastian more questions. “You can be born into Mobius?”

Archer was already waving one hand, shaking his head in mild annoyance. “We can play twenty questions about it later. Let’s just get the fuck out of here first.”

Shaking his own head to refocus, Sebastian climbed down the ladder with Lily after Archer finished descending, and the twins waited for them at the bottom. Both of them regarded the symbol on the floor with something like wariness, which was understandable, given that it was slowly filling with blood of some unknown origin, but Philomena finally spoke first, quietly, probably intended only for her brother, who stood next to her. “Do you think that comes from his victims?”

Stefano made a pensive noise in response. “I would hope not, but I fear it is so.”

Turning away with a grim expression on her face, Philomena walked at a brisk pace to catch up with them just as a metal gate began to creak and groan, lifting up before them. Ahead of them was a room shrouded in near-complete darkness, and almost as one, the group of four reached for their weapons of choice, checking in with silent glances, before continuing.

As they reached the edge of the darkened room, Philomena began to quietly hum, barely noticeable even though Sebastian was standing fairly close by. He wanted to ask what its purpose was, but he doubted they had the time at the moment. He had to set Lily down briefly to check his crossbow, and realized that if he was going to actually _use_ it, he would have to let Lily walk with them. “Sweetie,” he knelt down, and saw Archer hold up a hand to halt the twins out of the corner of his eye, “I need you to stick close to us once we get down there, okay?”

Lily nodded vigorously, and Archer spoke up, “Here--I’ll go down first, and you can pass her to me.”

Sebastian took a split second to examine the gesture for any potential ulterior motive, then shook himself out of it. He didn’t necessarily trust Archer much, but he _had_ looked after Lily while they’d been trapped here, waiting for rescue, and going down first was probably the biggest risk when they had no idea what waited for them. “Fine,” was all Sebastian said in the end, setting his crossbow down to get ready for the handoff.

Archer vaulted easily off the edge of the opening and into the room below, quickly sweeping his assault rifle’s barrel around to check for obvious threats. It was still dark, and even Sebastian’s flashlight didn’t cut through much, but there was nothing that looked like it could pose a problem right away. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Archer reached up, and Sebastian carefully helped Lily off the edge and the short drop into Archer’s waiting hands.

As soon as Lily’s feet touched the ground, lights erupted into existence all around the room, the same torches that had been illuminating everything else in this dungeon, on a much larger scale. Archer and Lily now stood in the bottom of what looked like a pit carved deep in the ground, scattered with--Sebastian swallowed thickly-- _corpses_ on the ground, likely Union citizens.

At the head of the room, someone waited, and Sebastian would bet his badge--if he still had it--that the person had to be Theodore.

“Darius Archer,” the voice confirmed Sebastian’s suspicion, and he was about to leap down there himself and try to finish this right here, when-- “you have my appreciation for delivering the Core into my hands, as agreed.”

_What?_

Archer looked somehow just as confused as Sebastian felt in that split second before Sebastian’s puzzlement was replaced by rage, and Archer’s by something that almost smacked of _panic,_ if Sebastian thought Archer were the type to show it. “What the fuck? I--what the _fuck,_ I didn’t _bring_ her to you, we were trying to get the fuck out of here!”

“Through an exit that you conveniently seemed to know how to unlock,” Sebastian retorted as he leaped down from the ledge, hands balling into fists at his side as he squared up, but if anything, Archer only looked _more_ alarmed.

“No! Fucking hell, will you just _think_ about this? He fucking tortured me! Taunted me with my own past self’s fucking face, _and_ burned me to a fucking crisp, what makes you think I’d work _for_ him?!” He’d taken an almost reflexive step back as Sebastian took one forward, and for some reason he still wasn’t going for his weapon, even though it was well within reach.

“Trials to prove your loyalty,” Theodore spoke again, all but forgotten in the background along with the Valentini twins, who had joined them at some point, “and you have accepted your proper place, in the end--at Mobius’ heel.”

 _“Fuck_ you!” Archer turned his sudden burst of rage on Theodore, who showed no visible reaction. Sebastian was torn two different ways--the obvious evidence pointing them to Archer leading them here versus the unusually strong reaction Archer was having to being accused of that exact crime. “I’d rather fucking _die_ than follow your orders!”

“Yet, here you are.” Theodore spread his arms before returning them to the pulpit where he stood. “You took the Core from the realm of those who stole her from me--”

“As part of the fucking deal to get their help! How the fuck _else_ was I supposed to get Castellanos to fucking believe it?”

“--arranged for her to be taken to a place in the open, where I might pull you here, to safety--”

“Yeah, the welcoming committee really gave me the impression of fucking _safety--”_

“--and now you have journeyed here, bringing not only the Core but some of this world’s most potent threats to my plans.” Sebastian could only just see Theodore’s face, and the smile that curved across it made shivers run down his spine. “You have done _well.”_

“No, I didn’t--”

Abruptly, fire leaped from spots on the ground in between the scattered bodies, and raced across the floor, swiftly cutting off any potential means of escape. Sebastian wheeled around for the entry they’d come through, but it was too high to jump on their own, and they didn’t have time to boost one another up. Lily clung to his leg and watched the fire with wide, terrified eyes, blue reflecting the bright yellow-orange. It flickered too close for comfort, and Lily yelped before hiding her face.

And, in all that chaos, there was also the sound of...humming?

Flame flickered, and began to die down, and Sebastian wheeled around to where Philomena stood, eyes closed as she continued to hum her tune, sweat beading at her brow, which was pinched with concentration. Her fingers flexed, reaching for something, but Stefano was already there, placing a hand on her shoulder, and some of the tension left her.

She released her breath in a great rush, and the flame disappeared.

“Enough parlor tricks,” Philomena managed once she opened her eyes. “Let us finish this here and now.”

Dead silence fell, broken only by the last smoldering embers from the fire, then Theodore began to chuckle, a sound that made dread rise up in Sebastian’s chest. “Parlor tricks, indeed,” Theodore said, moving from behind his pulpit with the aid of a cane, which he leaned on. “For there is no power you have in this world I cannot overcome.”

The cane tapped on the ground, a motion so small Sebastian almost missed it, but he definitely didn’t miss the fire leaping up anew, weaving around the room faster and faster, turning the air so hot he couldn’t breathe without choking, and it was so much like the house in his nightmares, _too_ much like the house--

 _“Dad!”_ Lily screamed, and that, that was from his nightmares too, so maybe this whole thing really _was_ just a nightmare, and he’d wake up somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t _burning--_

Something slammed into him with all the force of a sledgehammer just as he leaped for Lily, knocking him to the floor and turning his racing panic into an uneasy, blissful oblivion.

* * *

Sebastian did wake up somewhere else, and it wasn’t burning, but he still felt like he was in the middle of some fucked-up nightmare.

He was sitting at his desk in his office, his Room. The door was open, and in the main area, the Valentini twins as well as Archer were in various states of confusion and gradual wakefulness. Sebastian flung his gaze around the room in search of Lily, but he already knew what he’d find. He slumped backwards in his chair, a bone-deep _exhaustion_ taking hold and hollowing him out of everything except that same empty feeling that always accompanied a bad hangover or an even worse nightmare.

“Castellanos.”

Like flipping a switch, Archer’s voice took Sebastian’s empty feeling and immediately ignited it into rage; he was getting up from his chair and rounding the desk before he even thought about the action, raising his left fist and slamming it across Archer’s jaw.

Through his haze of anger Sebastian had a feeling, despite all his misgivings about Archer thus far, that he probably hadn’t orchestrated all of that just to hand Lily over to Theodore, but Lily was still gone, slipped through his fingers after he’d come _so close,_ and the nightmare only seemed to be getting worse and worse with no end in sight. His knuckles throbbed, and he was grateful, in that split second, that he hadn’t decked Archer with his _right_ hand, still recovering from his last bar brawl in the real world.

Surprisingly, Archer didn’t retaliate, though Sebastian fully expected it. Instead, he rubbed his jaw with one hand and said, “Feel better now?”

As a matter of fact, Sebastian felt like shit, for so many reasons. “No,” he muttered, stretching his left hand’s fingers and wincing as they began to ache.

“Well,” Archer finally said after a tense beat of quiet passed, “guess we should figure out what we’re doing next.”

“Not yet.” Sebastian straightened. “We need to talk.”

Archer raised a brow, and over his shoulder, Sebastian watched the Valentini twins exchange a glance. “Talk with words, or talk with fists?”

“With _words.”_ Sebastian glared, and folded his arms. “Though I can’t guarantee fists won’t happen later.”

“Guess that’s fair.” Archer rolled one shoulder before turning back to look at the main office area. The twins were deep in conversation, and probably wouldn’t notice them doing the same for a short while. Sebastian sat at his desk again, and Archer pulled over another chair, slouching in it and wincing; maybe his burns were sore. “All right, _Detective,_ do your worst.”

“I need you to tell me the truth--”

Archer let out a bark of laughter, corner of his mouth twitching with another wince. “You’d have a better chance having a ‘conversation’ with me using fists than honesty, but I’ll try, I guess.”

“You knew Ruvik.”

Archer’s brows shot up almost to his forehead, and he folded his arms loosely over his chest. “Have to admit, out of everything I expected you to say, that was near the bottom of the list. Yeah, I know him. What about it?”

“‘What about it’?” Sebastian echoed, incredulously gesturing as he continued, “He was behind the entire Beacon incident! He put me and my partners through hell trying to get out!”

“I know.”

“How do you--?”

“Because he _told_ me.”

With that one sentence, something else clicked into place--Archer had answered in the affirmative, that he knew Ruvik, but he’d used the _present_ tense. A rush of cold fear gripped Sebastian’s chest at the implications. He’d suspected Ruvik had made it out after watching a figure that looked like Leslie leave the hospital grounds, but the image had been gone so fast Sebastian had been willing to write it off as a hallucination, maybe residual influence from the system. The truth was so much worse.

“And, by the way, he didn’t fucking _orchestrate_ anything.” Archer rolled his eyes as he balanced one ankle over his knee. “Fucking _Jimenez_ was the one who activated the system without Mobius’ approval, and Mobius were the ones who fucking _stole_ the technology from him to begin with.”

“Don’t make him sound innocent.” Sebastian finally shot back, recovering from his momentary shock. “He murdered people for the sake of his experiments.”

“People have been collateral damage for the sake of experiments since the dawn of fucking science, what’s your point?”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t exactly make him especially evil, either, now does it?”

Shaking his head, Sebastian changed to a related topic which would hopefully be less inflammatory. “Was Kidman telling the truth when she said you helped test the original STEM system?”

With a scoff, Archer dropped his ankle and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Of course she was. She doesn’t even know the whole truth--nobody does. I was the first person Ruben plugged into STEM, years before the tech was on Mobius’ radar.”

“He taught you to manipulate it, didn’t he?” Sebastian gathered together all his memories of whatever oddities had befallen them with only minor or nonexistent effects to Archer himself, culminating in Philomena’s song having no effect on him and the memory he'd witnessed the last time he'd been in this room, of a younger Archer accompanied by Ruvik himself. “That’s why you’re immune to some of the effects here.”

“Some of them, yeah, but it’s not like I have the power of a Core myself. Only place I’d even come close was in Ruben’s STEM system, since I was partially compatible.” Archer got a thoughtful look to him for a moment, gaze turning distant. “Ruben’ll probably want to interrogate the hell out of me about it whenever we’re done here. Provided we live.”

“You know where he is, then.” It wasn’t a question, but he still felt it was worth confirming.

“I don’t, actually, but I know he’s in one out of several places.” Archer shrugged. “Gave him the choice of a few safehouses to lie low in til I got back.”

Sebastian’s head spun with so many trains of thought he couldn’t pick just one to pursue, and finally went for the most obvious. “Have you been traveling together since Beacon?”

“No. It took him about a year to find me, but after that we stuck together.” Archer rolled his shoulder again, eyelid twitching with pain. “We’ve known each other for twenty years by now--guess he felt like he had the best chance sticking with me. Plus, before me, Mobius rogue agents’ lifespans--”

“--never made it past 24 hours, yes, I remember.” Sebastian rubbed his face in one hand. “What do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“What did you come here for?” Sebastian looked up and fixed Archer with another glare, though he had a feeling it’d lost some of its fire to shock. “I know the official story--Mobius brought you back in for this mission, probably as a chance to earn your way back into the fold or some bullshit like that, but what are you _really_ here for?”

Archer stiffened, and broke Sebastian’s gaze for a moment to look at the checkered tile floor. When he leaned back into the chair again, the look on his face was unreadable. “I came here with an objective. It didn’t really matter to me how I achieved it. Help Kidman with her plan, or help Mobius and rejoin them, temporarily. Either way I’d get what I needed--a way to keep Mobius off our fucking backs until I could take the knife to them once and for-fucking-all.”

“Kidman’s plan?” This was something new. “What exactly was her plan?”

“I’ll get to the details that I know about later, but in short: destroy Mobius. I’m sure you’re on board with that.”

“I mean, yeah, of course I am, but--” Shaking his head, Sebastian refocused. Archer had promised details later, and he had more questions. “How exactly did you plan to take down Mobius on your own, if you’d betrayed me to rejoin them?”

Archer’s grin was empty and humorless. “Hadn’t quite gotten that far yet. I had a feeling just getting out of here would be tough enough without planning too far ahead, and obviously I was right.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I hate Mobius more than I hate you. Simple.”

There was more to it, Sebastian could tell, but for now he’d let Archer have those secrets. “Back to Kidman’s plan--what exactly was it?”

“I don’t know all the ins and outs of it. She told me enough when first reaching out to me that it piqued my interest, but she made it sound like someone else in here had more information about it. Guess we were supposed to cross paths with whoever it was at some point, but that hasn’t happened yet. Fuck knows if it even will, this place is kind of falling apart at the seams.” Archer shrugged, and flinched again, before continuing. “Basically, it involved taking down Mobius from within this system. Someone was supposed to get Lily out, then someone else was supposed to stay behind and ‘deal with’ Mobius, though I never actually got details on how exactly that was supposed to work.”

Sebastian thought he would feel better after getting some answers out of Archer, but instead all he felt was _tired._ This whole STEM excursion had been an emotional rollercoaster of cruel proportions, and it was nowhere near over. Yet, something still stood out to him, as he sat at his desk, pinching his nose with one hand. Looking up, he found Archer fidgeting in his own chair, crossing his legs again. “You called her by name.”

“What?”

“You didnt say ‘the Core’ or ‘the kid’, or anything else. You called Lily by name.”

“Yeah, well,” Archer fidgeted again, this time with a bit of awkwardness, “don’t read too much into it. She’s a good kid. Brave as fuck. We’ll get her back, Castellanos. I hate Theodore too much not to keep fucking trying to kick his ass til either he or I are dead.”

Despite himself, Sebastian couldn’t help the snort of laughter. “Finally, something we can agree on.” Getting up from the chair, Sebastian took a breath and released it. He couldn’t say that he felt _good,_ but he felt better than he had since this nightmare began.

He held out one hand, and Archer looked at it like Sebastian was offering him a coiled viper instead of a handshake. Looking back up, he asked, “This mean we’re done going at each other’s throats every five minutes? Gotta admit it’s a huge waste of time and energy.”

“I might not have had to go for your throat every five minutes if we’d had this talk at the beginning.” Sebastian pointed out.

Archer rolled his eyes, but took Sebastian’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Mobius should’ve known that throwing an ex-detective and a professional liar into a potentially hostile zone together was a stupid fucking idea at best. Guess they were expecting me to just kill you once we found Lily. Unfortunately for them, like I said before, I hate them more than you.”

“Well, consider me reassured.” The dry sarcasm didn’t feel pointed, like many of Sebastian’s conversations with Archer had felt so far, and while he wasn’t exactly prepared to say he was planning on calling Archer a friend just yet, they were at least on the same page, for now. “I have more questions, but they can wait until we’ve gotten some idea what we’re doing next.”

“Works for me.” Archer cast a look out the office at the Valentini twins, who were still quietly conversing in Italian. “Guess we should corral the wonder twins and see where we stand with them too.”

“They’ll help us,” Sebastian said, following Archer’s line of sight. “They don’t really have a choice if they want to get the hell out of here.”

Archer huffed, and a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Outside, the twins turned to face them in unison, near-identical grim expressions on their faces. “So we have landed ourselves in an even bigger mess in assisting you,” Philomena began, “and have nothing to show for it.”

“If you’re about to follow that up with a ‘convince us to keep helping you’ line, kindly fucking remember that we’re _all_ stuck in here until we find Lily.” Archer folded his arms over his chest, shifting where he stood as a line of tension creased his brow before fading.

“We are not fool enough to attempt such an endeavor alone, especially considering the circumstances,” Stefano interjected, glowering, “however it is worth noting that we are even further from the start of that goal than we were originally.”

“Fine. Noted.” Sebastian nodded towards the mirror, which still glowed. “Our only real option is to go through there and see where we end up. We’ll have to make a new plan wherever we end up.”

“We reached the same conclusion.” Philomena gestured with one hand towards the mirror. “After you.”

Hesitating, Sebastian went for the workbench in the hallway adjacent to the main room with a “Hang on,” tossed over his shoulder. A few supplies were stored here that Sebastian couldn’t carry on his person, and one of them was a syringe that he’d recovered from his first trip through the Marrow.

Snatching it up, he returned and held it expectantly in Archer’s direction, but Archer raised one brow and said, “Still not sure those things are worth the risk.”

“Just take the damn syringe.”

Archer’s grin widened, and he did take the syringe, tucking it into one of his pockets. “All right. Let’s get to it, yeah?”

Facing the mirror, the group of four let its rays of light reach out to grasp them, pull them away from the safety of their brief sanctuary, and into the unknown beyond.


End file.
